


A (Mostly) Comprehensive Guide to the End of the World

by MyAnnabell_Lee



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 117,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25226083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyAnnabell_Lee/pseuds/MyAnnabell_Lee
Summary: After a worldwide pandemic wipes out over 99% of the human population, the only way for those left to survive is to find others and make deals. Buffy, a potential slayer who's already watched people near and dear to her die, understands that the only person you can truly count on is yourself and has no desire to make connections with anyone else. Everything changes when she finds a little girl in the woods, makes a deal with a blonde devil, and discovers that there's more to the disease - and maybe the devil- than meets the eye.
Relationships: Faith Lehane/Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 32
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on Stephen King's The Stand and born of my own need to process the current state of the world, this story is my first contribution to the Buffyverse fandom. General disclaimer - none of the people you recognize belong to me, and all credit belongs to their various creators. I make no money from this...dammit. 
> 
> My hope is for this to be a fairly long work, and as a new author, all feedback and constructive criticism is welcome and helps me grow. I also may or may not obsess over it a bit, so thank you in advance! 
> 
> This story is also cross posted on Elysian Fields under my PN Annabellee.
> 
> <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

**_1 - Vaccinium Parvifolium_ ** **(Red Huckleberry)**

_Tonight on CNN, President Clinton assures nation, “I did not have sexual relations with that woman”..._

_India conducts three nuclear missile tests despite worldwide disapproval…_

_Last night, James Cameron’s Titanic took the Academy Awards by storm winning an astounding and record-breaking 11 awards including Best Picture and Best Director…_

_French government issues public service announcements concerning minor disease spreading along the southern border…_

_Europe and the US among the first to ban travel as numbers of new cases of mystery disease climb into the thousands…_

_Newly named “venenum sanguine”, or blood poison, continues to race through South American cities; authorities suspect water transmission…_

_Millions visit US hospitals with ailments ranging from bloody cough to heart failure...deaths coming faster than researchers and doctors can respond…_

_WHO estimates death total to be above 50 million as the global community scrambles to find a cure…_

_China refuses all travel across borders, claims miracle cure._

_…*Krrrrrrr beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep krrrrrrrrrr*..._

  
  


It had all happened so fast. That’s what anyone still living would tell you, anyway. The time between the first known case of the mysterious “blood poison” to the first death was only two weeks, and the time between that first death and the total collapse of the modern world was less than 6 months. 

Buffy remembered noticing it slowly - first, classmates started skipping school. Then the mall closed and she’d pouted at the unfairness of being denied retail therapy just because a few people somewhere were sick. It hadn’t seemed important, just another seasonal bug that would make people cough and sneeze, and soon it’d be over. Except it wasn’t. After the mall closed came the President on the TV announcing a mandate for people to quarantine at home and avoid public places as much as possible. The news changed daily; it was spread through the air, the water, or through physical contact. It was caused by a genomic defect, a virus, or some form of fungus. It was a nuisance, a potential hazard, or a coming pandemic. You could be asymptomatic, have a runny nose, or you could die. 

By the time Buffy had realized that the disease was serious, the world was already on its way to ending. Her time up to then had been spent worrying about keeping up with missed schoolwork, friends, and making time for her Watcher, Giles, who claimed that a global emergency was a perfect excuse to spend more time on her training even though at 17, the chances of her being called were becoming slimmer every day. That was fine with Buffy - no one had asked her if she wanted to be a potential Slayer, and as much as she respected her Watcher, she wasn’t at all sure that she’d make a very good one. Regardless, the training kept her in shape, and as more and more shops and public areas began to close, it gave her something to do. 

Then her mother came down with a cough and a fever. When Joyce assured her that it was nothing, just seasonal allergies, Buffy believed her. Less than 24 hours later, Buffy called Giles in a panic when Joyce collapsed on the living room floor with blood oozing out of the corner of her mouth. By the time he’d arrived, Joyce was unconscious, and by the time Buffy could hear the ambulance sirens outside, Joyce was gone. Giles had held her on the hard, wood floor as she screamed at the paramedics to do something...anything. 

Time progressed in flashes for a while after that. Standing stiffly in a black dress and mask with Giles in front of a window, watching Joyce’s body be cremated because public funerals weren’t allowed to avoid the spread of disease. Signing emancipation paperwork to stay out of the foster system until she turned 18. Packing her things into a small pink suitcase, Giles urging her to take only what she couldn’t live without. How do you pack your life into one small bag? Buffy remembered spending almost a full 30 minutes staring at the stuffed pig on her bed trying to determine if a stuffed animal was really “essential to survival”. She’d decided he was. Walking away from the house at Revello Drive, for some reason, Buffy recalled the absolute silence outside. No people were outside, no birds chirped in the trees, no cars drove slowly down the street. 

It never occurred to Buffy to ask Giles where he was going as they drove out of Sunnydale, but he told her anyway. The Council had concerns, he said, that this disease was not a natural phenomenon. Due to the disease’s rapid speed and unusual mutation, they suspected a powerful spell or even a vengeance demon. People were dying too quickly and it was spreading too rapidly to be a normal sickness, and the Council felt it best to get their people out of all public areas as soon as possible. So far, the Slayer herself had seemed to be immune, though several potentials and their Watchers had fallen prey to the disease without warning. That seemed to be how things were progressing - there was no stopping it, and there was no predicting it. You either got it or you didn’t. You either lived or you didn’t. She wondered which was truly the worse fate. 

They wove their way north through back roads and country routes until reaching Tahoe National Forest several hours later. If there were any rangers or park workers around, they never saw them, and Giles found a cabin back in the woods that probably went for several hundred dollars per night when the world made sense. After offering a wooden-toned joke about having everything except room service, Buffy tucked herself into a fresh-smelling bed and pulled the pillow over her head to block the world out. Maybe if she was lucky, when she woke up, it’d all be a dream.

Of course, it wasn’t, and when she descended the stairs the next morning to the smell of coffee and the sounds of the television, Buffy found that the world had continued to turn without her notice. Giles sat with his back to her, coffee cold and forgotten, as the headlines scrolled past. Los Angeles had broken down into anarchy as police were unable to hold back crowds of people protesting the mayor’s lack of communication or action against the disease in the crowded metropolis. People were dropping in the streets with blood streaking their faces and hands, and cameras showed others seizing up as loved ones and strangers alike weighed the wisdom of offering a dying person the comfort of human contact if it meant their own life. 

Buffy sank next to him and watched the world burn. Later, the President was on TV again holding a suspiciously pink handkerchief in his hand as he reported the newest findings on the disease. Cities all over the country were being vacated as people swarmed to get away, clogging up highways in all directions. Scientists felt confident that the disease was curable if only given enough time, and head researchers at Harvard and Stanford claimed that the disease was working by attacking the body’s immune and circulatory systems. Only a matter of time, they assured. 

After an hour of more of the same, Giles turned the television off and rose wearily. No use in watching rats report on the sinking of the Titanic, he said. Best to use their privacy and time to prepare for what might come. No one knew what tomorrow might bring, and it wouldn’t do to be caught without the means to survive. He retrieved a slim book from his bag and pressed it into her hands. _A (Mostly) Comprehensive Guide to the Flora and Fauna of the West Coast_. Buffy couldn’t imagine a book she wanted to read less but took the offering anyway. When she’d asked Giles if there was a “For Dummies” version, he’d offered her the first glimpse of an exasperated-father smile she’d seen in days. It was the last she’d see for much longer. 

Time seemed to stand still at the Tahoe Cabin as Buffy spent her days split between physical training and survival skills. Suddenly, a girl whose former greatest worries had consisted of matching shoes and toenail polish learned the importance of paying attention to the details. For instance, the difference between Red Huckleberries, which were tasty, and Cotoneaster berries, which could poison you. Even her physical training took on a more “Girl Scout”-themed trend. Knowing how to run in rugged mountain terrain and use the high trees as a place of attack or respite was suddenly more important than knowing how to aim a crossbow (not that they’d brought a crossbow to practice with, mind you) or how to identify a demon by the spots on their horns. When she wasn't training, she would pick up the tiny book Giles had given her and walk the surrounding woods and testing her knowledge of the local plant life. 

A month had passed when Buffy came back one afternoon from a trek to explore some nearby rock faces and discovered Giles dead in his preferred red chair in the den. His limbs were stiff, eyes open and unseeing, and a single line of blood trailed down the corner of his mouth to his chin. For a long time, she simply stood and looked at him, again struck at the silence of it all. There were no sounds of the tv, which had only provided static for a week now, the radio, which Giles had spent hours adjusting and cursing at until he’d managed to find a frequency that provided him some local news from a group of short wave radio enthusiasts, or even the clock in the kitchen. There was nothing - nothing except a ringing in her ears and an overwhelming sense of calm. 

At that moment, it had made perfect sense to Buffy what she needed to do. She walked around the house gathering what would fit in a large camping backpack appropriated from a shed outside of the cabin. This time, it was much easier to condense her needs, and it took no consideration at all to decide that Mr. Gordo still made the cut as essential to her survival. Going from room to room, she considered each item, packing or discarding them according to rarity, usefulness, and size. When she’d packed what she felt she could comfortably travel with, she returned to the den. After gently smoothing a hand across his forehead and closing his eyes, Buffy picked up his glasses from where they’d fallen to the floor beside him. Tucking them into an inner pocket of her backpack, she looked at him one more time, kissed his cheek, and walked into the kitchen. After turning the knobs on the stove to start releasing gas without letting it catch fire, she moved towards the exit. At the door, she turned and used a small, silver lighter she’d tossed into her backpack to light the curtains of a nearby window on fire. 

She’d not even made it five hundred feet from the house when the fire from the curtains met the escaping gas from the stove. It crossed her mind that it wasn't silent anymore. In the place of that emptiness, the world around her roared. The smoke began to billow out of the windows of the house, and the wood in the walls began to crack and splinter as the flames began to spread. It seemed appropriate to her for the house to rage when she could not find it in herself to do anything except keep walking away. No more safe spaces. No more safe people. No more expectations of anything or anyone except herself and _A (Mostly) Comprehensive Guide to the Flora and Fauna of the West Coast._


	2. Rubus spectabilis (Salmonberry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This week, on Buffy the Arsonist..._
> 
> The 1st chapter was all past tense, and this one will still be pretty heavy on the back story, but we'll meet some new people along the way! As always, nothing you recognize is mine and Joss doesn't share the royalty checks even though I'd have treated my boy Spike much better.

**_2 - Rubus spectabilis (_ ** **Salmonberry** **_)_ **

_One year later_

“Buffy? Can you see anything?”

Wes’s voice carried up the tall pine to where Buffy was perched. She scanned the horizon around her, taking in the miles upon miles of greenery. Eyes narrowed, she listened closely for a moment before calling down, “No, nothing but hawks and clouds up here.” 

Satisfied that there were no threats nearby, Buffy began her descent. As soon as her boots were again on the ground, she turned to face Wes. 

“It seems clear ahead, and I spotted some caves farther along near the mountain. If we get a move on soon, we should be able to make it there before dark.”

Wes nodded and turned towards the direction she had pointed out. His eyes narrowed a bit and Buffy could just hear the gears turning in his head as he considered their next move. Traveling this late in the day was a risk for anyone, but traveling as they were…

Buffy’s eyes drifted over the small crowd resting several yards behind them. 30 people in their small caravan, including two pregnant women and 9 children. While everyone was well used to walking the uneven terrain of the Northwest Coast’s hills and mountains, it was still slower going than Buffy would have liked. In all honesty, were it left up to her, anyone unable to travel light and fast would have never been taken on. It had been one thing when they’d had a relatively secure campsite near Redding and could afford a few high-risk residents in their cadre. 

Buffy had been happy there; well, content maybe. As content as one could be in a post-apocalyptic world where nothing but the things in your pack were personal, and luxuries like hot water, bargain shoe stores, and privacy were a thing of the past. Buffy had found the camp on the outskirts of Redding after trekking north from Tahoe. Not knowing where to go, it was amazing she’d even found them. She’d avoided main roads as necessary, slept during the day, and did most of her traveling at night when there were less likely to be other beings about. Giles’s survival training aside, she was miserable at reading maps and had mostly been wandering from food source to food source, cave to cave. 

When she’d come to Redding, the lure of the potentially different, albeit unhealthy, food that might be found in abandoned stores and houses after three months of the nuts and berries she’d identified from her book and eaten was too great to resist. There were signs of others all over the edge of the woods and borders, but Buffy had been confident that she could sneak around at night without detection. She had no need of others, Giles’s and Joyce’s unseeing eyes more than enough company for her. _In and out_ , she’d thought, _and no one will be the wiser._

She hadn’t counted on the man on patrol that night. Buffy had watched the thin brunette wind his way through the streets where she’d decided to try her luck, and when he turned a corner down the next block, she’d felt safe enough to enter the dismal looking Shell gas station. Wasting no time, she’d started combing her way through the aisles, digging through what was left after people had obviously already raided the pitiful stocks. For her troubles, she found some batteries that still seemed to have juice, a few packets of packaged soup, and a roll of Hubba Bubba Bubble Tape. Hardly inspiring for the effort it had taken to get here and would take to get out again. 

Or at least, that’s what she had thought. She couldn’t tell who was more surprised when she stood up from between two aisles to find a flashlight beam in her eyes, her or the brunette. He’d held the beam steady - to disorient her, she thought - and had called out an authoritative, “Who are you? Identify yourself.” 

Buffy had crouched between the aisles quickly, trying to decide if she could get by him and out the door without having to hurt him. She might only have been a Potential Slayer, but Giles’s training had left her more than capable of protecting herself against other humans. A moment later, the man called again, his voice reminding her vaguely of her watcher. “Identify yourself or I will be forced to fire. Human or demon?” 

She quietly edged to the corner of the aisle to get a better look at him, and managed a glimpse of the gun held steadily in his hands before the beam snapped over to her face again. Jerking back behind the shelf, she weighed her options. Deciding that she stood a better chance if his guard relaxed a bit, she stood slowly. 

“I’m human - please don’t shoot. I’m alone, and I’m hungry. I just wanted some food.” Despite her purposefully wide eyes and trembling lip, the gun in the man’s hands didn’t budge. 

“Where did you come from? Humans never come this far north alone,” he demanded, eyes never leaving her. 

Buffy figured that was probably true. The end of the world didn’t seem to have slowed down the demon population at all, and a lone human was just asking to become some demon’s brunch or vampire’s chew toy. She’d had a few near misses herself even with her Slayer training, hiding in tall trees and making make-shift stakes from low hanging branches. 

Eying the gun barrel carefully, she had decided that she probably wasn’t going to be able to move fast enough in the confined space of the gas station to get away without injury. It probably wouldn’t hurt to answer the man’s questions, get him talking, and see if she could knock him out and make a run for it. 

“Who’s from anywhere right now? Nothing exists anymore. But I used to live in Sunnydale, about two hours outside Los Angeles.” 

“Where are you headed? Redding is the last safe encampment in Northern California.” 

“I don’t know. Away. I’m not going anywhere, and I didn’t even mean to come here. Should have just kept walking for all the good this trip did me.” She kept her voice calm, but allowed a small show of annoyance to come through. 

The man had considered her for a moment, then straightened his back, lowering the gun just enough to show her he didn’t intend to shoot right then. 

“If what you’re saying is true, put your hands in the air and walk slowly towards me. I won’t shoot unless you give me reason, but I can hardly allow an unknown being to walk in and out of my camp without taking precautions.” 

Buffy had bristled but done what he asked. When she was close enough to reach, the man had pulled his sleeve up to reveal a bracelet with a small silver cross. He pressed it to her skin, and when nothing had happened, he stepped back and finally lowered his weapon. 

“You’ll forgive me - at night, vampires have often tried to sneak into the camp posing as humans. We lost too many people at the beginning to risk-taking anyone at their word.” 

Buffy had nodded and had planned to offer a no-harm-no-foul-now-can-I-go before her stomach had interrupted with a particularly loud growl. 

The man’s mouth had twitched and his eyes softened almost imperceptibly. Gesturing towards the door of the gas station, he’d offered casually, “You are, of course, welcome to leave. We are not in the habit of holding humans hostage and even looting is hardly a crime in the current state of things. You’ve obviously managed well enough on your own, tonight’s affair notwithstanding.”

Another bristle, this time joined by a glare. 

“However, if you’re interested, we certainly have the resources for one more and our cooks have just now begun to serve the evening’s meal. You might join me on the rest of my patrol, have an edible if not exactly gourmet meal, and rest for a while before continuing your journey.” 

Buffy hadn’t been sure if it was the accent, the slightly skewed glasses that reminded her so much of her Watcher or her immediate hunger, but something inside had urged her to accept his offer. This wasn’t trusting someone, she’d reasoned, simply taking advantage of an unforeseen resource. She would eat well, rest her feet, and be gone in the morning before anyone was the wiser. 

That had been over half a year ago. After falling asleep that night in a spare tent under an actual blanket, Buffy had been shocked to wake up after sunset the next evening. When she’d poked her head out of the tent, the man had been sitting around a campfire nearby and had offered a small smile and wave. She’d spent the night going around on patrol with him again, scarfing another bowl of questionable soup, and telling herself that she could always leave in the morning. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, as he’d introduced himself, simply nodded at her at the end of the night and said he’d see her when she woke. 

The pattern had repeated night after night, day after day, and soon Buffy had found herself in a routine. After discovering that Wesley was a former Watcher who’d found his way to the Redding encampment after his potential had painfully died from the disease, it made sense to Buffy to stay near him. She agreed with his assumption that the Counsel- if it still existed at all after the near-total extermination humanity had experienced- was in no place to help them. So she stayed. She hadn’t developed anything resembling a relationship with anyone except for Wes, and it suited her. As far as she was concerned, living in the camp was just a means of survival, and relationships and connections were not required. She slept, she patrolled and killed the odd demon or vampire attempting to make easy prey of the camp’s residents, she ate, she trained. That was life, and it was enough. 

She likely would have continued in her routine had the camp not been attacked nearly two weeks ago. Buffy had been on patrol on the far side of the camp’s borders when she’d heard the first screams. Without hesitation, she’d turn and run towards the abandoned hotel that served as the center of the camp. As she drew closer, she’d smelled fuel and saw the beginnings of flames coming from what had been the central sleeping area. Snarls and growls were everywhere, and when a vampire had dropped down in front of her, she’d reacted on instinct. Pulling a stake from her waistband, she’d bobbed and weaved around him until he’d lunged. She’d sidestepped and brought her arm down into his back above his heart. She’d hardly noticed his shriek or the dust floating to the ground before continuing her race towards the main camp. 

When she’d arrived, she’d taken in the chaos around her. Screams were coming from inside buildings where families had sheltered, flames were quickly spreading from tent to tent, and those trying to escape were being chased down by a group of tall, scaly demons. She’d scanned the faces around the building’s courtyard, searching for Wes. He was about 50 yards away, cornered by two large vampires, a bloody gash below his eye and a wicked-looking hunting knife in his hand. 

Buffy had run towards him, barking his name as she tossed her stake over a vampire’s head and into Wes’s hands. Distracted by her voice, the vampires had turned around and were quickly dusted. After dropping a heavy hand on her shoulder to confirm that she was whole, Wes had pushed her towards the sounds of screaming civilians.

“Save who you can, and get to the safe point outside of town. No more than an hour.” he’d growled, voice strained and weary. 

She’d nodded and obeyed. Really, she hadn’t looked overly much for survivors, but 5 of the humans who made it out of the carnage at Redding camp owed her their lives. She’d fought with tiring muscles, using every dirty trick she knew to outwit the large predators, pushing people behind corners and pulling them down alleys until they reached the edge of town. The sun was beginning to lighten the sky behind them. 

When Buffy caught sight of Wes’s brown hair and the glint of his glasses at the mouth of the cave they were to rendezvous at, she wasn’t able to muster the strength to do anything except nod and hope her eyes conveyed how grateful she was that he’d survived. Not many had. Out of a camp of 300 or more, only 30 had survived. 

As they rested in the cave, drinking down gulps of fresh water from a spring in the cave and forcing down handfuls of salmonberries that Buffy and a few others had found nearby, talk turned to what to do next. Wes was unanimously chosen as the leader of their small retinue, and it was quickly decided that they would rest and recuperate during the day and begin walking north at dusk. There were rumors of another safe haven somewhere in Oregon, and although they didn’t know if there was any truth to it, it seemed as good a destination as any. With the serious choices made, most went to sleep or tended to the wounded. Those who were unable to sleep found themselves at the mouth of the cave watching the smoke from the smoldering Redding camp swirl lazily into the sky.

Travel had been slow, and as days passed with only limited distance covered, Buffy found herself frustrated with Wes’s determination that _everyone_ would reach safety. As far as she was concerned, their priority should be to get to the rumored safe haven as quickly as possible and people could either keep up or not. Most of the world had died and couldn’t be saved, but some just lived. Why should this situation be any different? Of course, she’d never say such things to the general populace - while they all depended on each other to a certain extent, Buffy had no personal connections to anyone but Wes and the feeling seemed to be mutual. When she voiced her opinion to Wes, he’d gone quiet for a moment. His angrily burning eyes betrayed him though his voice remained calm. 

“How can you ask that, Buffy? What of the duties you trained for? What of the expectations of the slayer? What if your mother or Rupert had been with us and were injured? Would you still think that we ought to be the hare in this race?”

Buffy couldn’t stop the flinch at the Watcher-like reproach, but responded coldly, “My mother and Giles are dead, Wes. Dead - and there was nothing I could do, just like there was nothing I could do to save most of the people at the camp. I’m not the Slayer, and I guess it’s a good thing because if I couldn’t save the people I actually loved, what chance would I have for people I don’t know or care about? I want to live. If that makes me a bad Potential or a bad person, then I guess I am because I don’t want to die yet. And I don’t want to watch more people die when I can’t save them either.”

Wes had looked pained but hadn’t said anything for a long while. Finally, he’d laid a hand on her shoulder, murmured “I’m so sorry, Buffy, for the choices you’ve already had to make. I hope that no matter what happens, even if you can’t help everyone, you will not stop trying to save someone.” 

He’d gotten up and walked away, and now, days later and still slowly moving north into Oregon, Buffy still thought about what he had said. As far as she was concerned, she’d keep her head low and do what was needed. No use needlessly sticking her neck out for “someone” and potentially losing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts! The angst is here for a bit, but being a post-apocalyptic setting where lots of folks are just dead...yeah, hard to fit sunshine and puppies into that one.


	3. Baorangia bicolor (Bolete Mushroom)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have sent feedback! As a new author, it gives me warm fuzzies to hear that folks have enjoyed what I'm creating! 
> 
> This time on Buffy the Post Apocaplyptic Arsonist: ready to meet someone new?
> 
> Disclaimer: It ain't mine. Except for the parts that are.

**3 -** **_Baorangia bicolor_ ** **(Bolete Mushroom)**

They’d made better time to the caves Buffy had spotted than she’d dared hope for. People seemed in good spirits today, and no one was seriously injured. Cautiously optimistic, she thought that if they could keep up the pace, they’d be able to reach the reservoir up north where the haven was supposed to be in just a few more days. She settled at the mouth of the cave and tried to imagine the terrain ahead. So far, they’d stuck to back roads and forest trails to escape detection from any wandering demons, and they’d had more luck than Buffy felt safe with. 

When Wes settled into the rocks next to her, she felt the need to start a conversation to make up for the coldness of the previous days. 

“Nice...trees up here.” _Oh yeah, way to go, Buffy. Compliment the foliage - that’s totally gonna do the trick._

Wes snorted and took his glasses off, idly cleaning them with his shirt. “Really? Trees? I hadn’t noticed. I must have been distracted by all the rocks and completely missed them.” 

His humor surprised her, but then it didn’t. Wes was stoic in his duty, even more so since becoming the Big Kahuna of their small caravan, but he wasn’t cold. He was an expert at reading people and saw her attempt at conversation for what it was. She was grateful. It had never been easy for Buffy to talk about her issues or make amends with others, but since Giles and Joyce’s deaths, it had become nearly impossible.

Wes’s mention of her mother and Giles and her duties as a potential had dug deeper than she wanted to admit. The sting of his reproach was still fresh. It bothered her how desperately she wanted to do something that would show him how much she still needed a Watcher’s approval, even if it wasn’t official.

“Yeah, well, they didn’t have trees like this back home. Pretty much just palm trees there. Maybe an oak or two, I don’t know,” she commented.

“Yes, I imagine. While England has its forests, they certainly don’t look like this one. More Sherwood Forest and Robin Hood; less Call of the Wild and grizzly bears.” 

“Wait, there aren’t any grizzly bears out here, are there? I didn’t sign up for bears in this apocalypse.” She feigned nervousness, glancing around before offering a small smile. 

“This is America, isn’t it? Short of panda bears, I believe you’ve got the lot. Black bears, brown bears, grizzly bears, Yogi bears….”

Buffy laughed, surprised at how the sound loosened some of the aching tightness in her chest. “Well,” she said, “I guess there’s just one question to ask then.”

“Oh, and what might that be?”

“Can you run faster than me, Watcher man?”

Wes blinked in confusion. “I beg your pardon - can I run faster than you? What does that have to do with bears?”

With a decidedly disinterested look, Buffy replied, “Oh, you know what they say about surviving a bear attack. You don’t have to be faster than the bear...just faster than the other guy.”

Wes looked at her for a moment before dropping his head. For a moment, Buffy wondered if her joke had been a misfire, but then his shoulders began to shake quietly in laughter. When he looked back up at her, he smirked and asked, “You are aware that you’re an awful person, yes?”

“Yep!” She popped the ‘p’ at the end like a piece of bubblegum and grinned. 

With the discomfort of their previous conversation out of the way, Buffy relaxed. She might not agree with Wes on much at times, but she could accept that she needed peace with the one person she might call a friend right now. She frowned as she realized that even that might be pushing it. When she pictured a world where Wes hadn’t escaped the attack, she considered what would be different. She would miss him, of course. He represented the last vestige of her previous life as a slayer in training, and she would mourn him, avenge him if she could. But she would move on, keep traveling north. The Buffy who had existed before the world ended felt like crying at the realization, but the Buffy who existed now accepted that she had no place in her heart for others now. 

She slept fitfully that night, which was normal for her these days. As the sky began to lighten again, the night guards began to make the rounds to wake the group up. She tried to ignore the sounds of people’s morning rituals - the half-hearted complaint for lack of coffee, the request for “five more minutes, Mom”, the splattering wet sound of people relieving their bladders - it was all too much noise. She finally sat up, stretching her arms above her and popping her shoulders as her shirt rose up her midriff and scratched at her belly. Someone had started a small fire and had warmed some water sprinkled with pine needles for taste. While not the tastiest thing in the world - and nothing compared to a good cup of coffee - it was warm and refreshing. Her trusty guide even had a paragraph or two about the potential health benefits of pine tea, which would have been a plus to pre-crazy-world Buffy. When she took an open spot around the fire, Buffy accepted the cup that Jessie, the most pregnant woman in their group, handed her along with a few pieces of bright red and yellow mushroom.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip and attempting a smile at the woman. 

Jessie’s eyes widened; then squeezed shut as her mouth tightened in a grimace.. Her hand went to her belly automatically, and for a terrifying moment, Buffy thought their streak of luck was over and Jessie was in labor. 

“Are you all right?” Buffy reached towards her; then stopped, unsure of what to do. 

The other woman laughed breathlessly and pushed her curly black hair out of her eyes. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me. You just surprised me and then Junior here decided he hadn’t played enough football with my spleen this morning.” 

When Buffy tilted her head in confusion, Jessie continued quietly, “I think that’s the first time you’ve spoken to me - or maybe anyone - other than Mr. Wes. You’ve got a lovely voice.” Her smile reached all the way to her bright blue eyes, and Buffy felt her cheeks flush. 

She hadn’t thought it was that bad...she talked to people...she did. Why just last week she’d talked to...no, that was Wes. Well, just yesterday, she’d...no, that was a conversation she’d pretended to have with the man walking in front of her who’d been walking too slow. Well...how about that?

Bringing herself back to the present, Buffy shrugged guiltily but didn’t say anything, choosing instead to pop a few mushroom bits in her mouth. Jessie offered an understanding look and reached out to Buffy’s shoulder before stopping, seeming to think better of it. 

After an increasingly awkward moment, Buffy rose to join the group of men and women gathering at the mouth of the cave. If there was any of that mysterious luck still hanging about, they might make it at least 15-20 miles today. Although, realistically, they were just as likely to all be crushed under a landslide or attacked by a group of Wes’s ravenous grizzly bears as they were to actually make it to another resting place that night. One never knew what the day would bring in the mystical woods of southern Oregon, but it wasn’t often good things. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Wes stopped suddenly in the middle of the road and raised his hand. Behind him, the group slowed almost instantly and Buffy moved into her position at his left. Without looking at her, he asked quietly enough that no one else would be able to hear, “Do you smell that?”

Buffy focused for a moment...there. Smoke. Lots of it. Best case scenario, someone was stupid enough to light a fire that others could detect. Worst case scenario...well. There could be a lot of those. Before he could prompt her, Buffy located the tallest tree in their vicinity and began to climb. 

At first, nothing stood out; which was good. The wind whipped across her face and the rough bark of the tree was uncomfortable in her hands, but none of that had Buffy’s attention as she slowly panned her gaze across the sky. To the northeast, she could see a small town - Bend, she thought she remembered from Wes’s battered map. _How original._ She thought to herself. She idly wondered who had been the first settler to crest the hill, take in the vast, mountainous landscape, and declare, “That. That right there is where I’ll settle and I’ll call it Bend.” 

Just as she’d almost decided that the smoke was from a campfire somewhere and began the climb down, she saw it. A small plume of smoke was coming from the northeast, in the direction of the town. It didn’t look like much, but it must have been a sizable flame to be seen that much through the trees. 

In her haste to jump down and report what she’d seen, she misjudged her last drop and grabbed the wrong part of a branch, gouging deeply into her palm. Hissing through her teeth, she shook her hand and pressed down on the wound before turning to Wes. “Looks like a fire to the north - too small to be a wildfire, but too large to be a single campfire. Hard to tell through all the trees, but it might be worth it to check it out in case it spreads and becomes wild.”

Wes nodded grimly. “Are you all right? That looks painful.”

“Don’t worry about me. I may not be a slayer, but I still manage to heal better than the average bear.” 

Wes offered a small smile before turning to another man from their group. Buffy couldn’t remember his name, but he’d always looked like the type who’d been used to getting his way in the real world. Ryan? Rider? Eh. Didn’t much matter, she supposed. 

After a few minutes of discussion, it was decided that Wes, Buffy, and four others would make the two mile trek towards the smoke to make sure that it wouldn’t be a source of danger, and the rest would wait with the majority of the weapons for their return. Wes left Ryan-Rider-whoever in charge of those staying behind, and Buffy couldn’t help shake her head at the preening peacock he’d become in less than five minutes. She wondered if he realized that Wes had only chosen to take those he felt had a chance of coming back if there was, in fact, danger ahead. 

The walk towards the smoke was easy, and within a half hour they could hear the crack of over-burnt wood and catch the unique scent of burnt flesh on the breeze. Not just a campfire or an accident, then. Buffy inwardly braced herself for whatever they’d find and continued moving forward. With every step, more and more evidence of what would greet them met her senses, and the increasingly acrid smell of smoke and meat and death made her eyes water. 

When they finally reached the source in a small clearing ahead, it was almost unsurprising what they found. Six piles of what had probably been tents had been burned, the metal poles still dripping pearls of molten plastic and nylon to the ground. Bodies were strewn across the forest floor; men, women, and children alike seemingly tossed aside like forgotten playthings, their blood staining the dirt and creating swaths of red mud. There had only been ten of them, hardly enough to catch anyone’s notice, really, but whoever or whatever was responsible likely hadn’t cared about the cost-benefit of attacking the group. The sheer amount of needless carnage made Buffy think their purpose had been cruel pleasure instead of food or self-defense. 

One of the men in their party came up beside her, wide-eyed. His voice trembled, and his hands were shaking hard enough that the gun in his hand clicked against his wedding ring. “What in God’s name did this? They’re...they were jus’ fam’lies...kids and mamas. Who...couldn’t be no animals. Too much meat leftover...ain’t nobody deserves to die like this.”

Buffy bit back a sharp retort about how much those they’d left behind in Redding had deserved to die, but she allowed that sometimes the brain has to process in whatever way it can. She glanced away from the scene and found Wes taking it all in, quiet and shuttered as usual. His mouth was set in a hard line, and his eyes were focused on one spot. Buffy followed his gaze and landed on one of the melted tents with a suspicious lump underneath the debris. Her stomach roiled when she recognized the shape of a body...a small one. In front of the tent, a woman’s body was stretched out over what would have been the entrance, throat torn and oozing; her skirt rucked up and ripped. Too much...it was too much. 

She barely made it to the edge of the clearing before she heaved. Chunks of the small, two-toned mushrooms she’d eaten before she left looked oddly bright in the pile of vomit, but she hadn’t eaten much, and soon she had nothing left but dry heaves. In between retches, Buffy choked back tears. More people. More people she couldn’t save and couldn’t afford to care about. When her stomach finally settled and she was able to take in deep breaths, noises around her let her know she was not the only one to be reacting in this way to what they’d found. 

She sat down, head between her knees, and tried to focus on her breath. _In...out...in...those poor kids...ohgodohgodohgod._

She scrambled back to the bushes and heaved again. This time, she felt a hand against her back and she arched indelicately over the soiled ground, and reached without thought to grasp it tightly. When it was over, she looked behind her to see Wes, eyes shining with unshed tears, voice strained and tight.   
  


“Come on. There’s nothing we can do for them now, and there doesn’t seem to be anything worth salvaging. The fire is out, and we should get back to our own.” 

Buffy nodded, glancing around at the others in their small party. No one was standing alone, each person drawing strength from contact with another, any shield to be held against the evil in front of them. 

She dropped Wes’s hand without ceremony and started towards the opposite edge of the clearing. “Gimme a minute. I want to see if I can tell which way their attackers went.” 

Wes nodded, signaling with his fingers how many minutes they could spare before turning towards the other members of their party. 

Buffy followed a group of footprints out of the clearing, trying to determine how many there had been. Her best guess became three vampires and two...somethings. Human sized feet suggested vampires, but the tracks next to them were unknown to her. At any rate, no forest animal had done this, not that there had really been any thought to the contrary. 

She stopped a hundred feet away from the clearing and settled on a large, hollowed out log to consider for a moment. The forest was hardly silent despite the horror behind her, and she found herself needing just a few quiet moments to process what came next. Could they spare the time to bury the bodies or should they get out as fast as they could? Were they leaving their own party unprotected if they showed the dead some respect? Or should they leave the bodies as they lay so as not to alert whoever had attacked them if they came back for seconds? Footprints could be disguised in the chaotic mud, but missing bodies and fresh graves or funeral pyres were fairly telling. What was the right choice? Was there a right choice?

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost missed it. In the log underneath her, something shifted, then let out a small breath. Without indicating she’d heard anything, Buffy slowly pulled her hunting knife from its holster on her thigh and took one long, deep breath. As she exhaled, she tightened her muscles, raised her knife high, and stabbed down into the log with all her might. 

It took a moment to place the scream that came from inside. That...that was no demon, no tiny forest creature. She pulled her knife back and jumped away from the log, falling on her backside in shock. 

“Waaaaaaaaaah!” 

In no time at all, Wes and the others came running to her. The wailing continued inside the log, and no one seemed keen on approaching it to identify who was inside. Astoundingly, it made Buffy angry. After all that they’d seen today, her emotions couldn’t handle one more explosion, one more mystery. She got to her feet quickly and yelled, “Enough!” 

The voice inside apparently had no respect for angry sounding people, and it continued to scream. The echo caused by the log was starting to make Buffy’s ears ring, and she tried again. “Hey, I said that’s enough! Cut it out and come out of there!”

The yowling faltered for a moment and then, in a surprising moment, began to whimper. The men looked around at each other with expressions that clearly said, “You first.” Buffy’s ire continued to rise, and before anyone could grab her, she was up and marching back to the log. 

As she crouched down to the open end of the log, she groused, “Now look, it’s been a long-ass day already, and I’m kinda tired, but I totally think I can take on one lousy, pathetic, slimy de-” 

The two giant eyes staring at her fearfully stopped her short. There, backed as far into the log as possible with hands spread over her face, terrified eyes peeking out, was the farthest thing from a demon. Buffy’s brain shorted, realizing with horror what she had been prepared to do...what she had already done. Crouched in the log was a little girl that didn’t look to be much older than six or seven, and Buffy might have stabbed her through the log without knowing! Her stomach rolled again, but Buffy savagely pushed the instinct down. She took in the brown, stringy hair and dirty pajamas and swallowed hard. 

“H-hey, there. I didn’t- what are you doing in there? Can you come out here, please? I promise- I’m not going to hurt you.”

_Oh well done, Buffy. That’s definitely going to convince the terrified kid that Stabby McStabbypants isn’t going to get her._ She inwardly rolled her eyes at herself, but figured she couldn’t do much more damage than she already had. 

Buffy had to fight the strange urge to laugh when the fear in the little girl’s eyes was replaced by indignation. Hands retreated from her face, and a only-slightly-trembly lip began to pout. 

“No! I won’t. You can’t get me in here!” 

Buffy turned her head to catch Wes’s eyes and hopefully inspire him to come to talk to the little girl out, but he only stared at her, mouth slightly open and eyes as big as quarters. So much for their Fearless leader. Turning back, Buffy squared her shoulders to try again, channeling what she could remember of how her mother had often spoken when Buffy had been very young and still afraid of monsters. _Pet names...kids like grownups who use pet names in a non creepy way, right?_ She wondered

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t know you were...you! We found some pretty bad stuff back there and I thought maybe you were one of the de...bad guys. De bad guys.” 

Buffy hadn’t known six year olds could look so disbelieving but noticed that the girl was every so slowly starting to inch forward, her eyes glued to Buffy’s face. When she was most of the way out, Wes crouched down beside Buffy and added his own encouragement. “There’s a good girl - you look quite hungry. Would you like something to eat?” 

The girl stopped moving for a moment and looked at him hopefully. “Do you got any chocolate? I love chocolate, ‘specially M&Ms.” 

Wes frowned regretfully, shaking his head. “No, unfortunately, I don’t believe we have any of those. I’m sorry, I like chocolate too.” 

When the girl emerged fully, Buffy considered her. Long, brown hair hung around a too-thin face that was taken up by too-large chocolate eyes and a tiny nose. Her pajamas had probably once been adorable with pink and white flowers all over the shirt and pants, but crawling in the dirt and hiding in the log had left it mostly a dingy brown. It must have belonged to someone before her because it hung off her body in a way that suggested not having grown into it yet. 

She inched closer to Buffy and Wes before coming to stop in front of them. “What’s your name?” Buffy asked, in what she hoped was a Joyce-like tone. 

“Dawn. I’m Dawn and I’m seven.” 

_Oh God...seven years old and she lived through...whatever happened here._ Inwardly, Buffy felt a twinge of sympathy and lost her train of thought. What must Dawn have seen and heard crouched in that log? Thankfully, Wes picked up the slack. 

“Hello, Dawn. My name is Wesley Wyndam-Price, and this is my friend Buffy. We’re traveling with some friends nearby. Would you like to come with us?” 

Dawn shuffled nervously and looked at the rest of the group, who had been watching silently so far. Buffy looked at them and puzzled at the discomforted look some of the men were giving her. The man who’d spoken to Buffy earlier stepped forward and scratched his beard. “Wes, a word if ya don’t mind?” 

Buffy frowned, but waited next to Dawn while Wes walked several yards away with the men. She knew they were trying to keep quiet, but she still managed to hear bits and pieces. 

“...no way anyone could survive…”

“...left as bait?”

“...maybe some kinda mutant demon…”

“..can’t bring her along...leave her in a safe place and go on…”

Buffy’s eyes widened in disbelief, anger blazing in a way she hadn’t felt since before the world fell apart. She was on her feet and charging the men before she’d even taken another breath.

Wes tried to grab her as she raged past, but she was already in Beard-Man’s face. “The **hell** you will! How dare you? She’s just a kid!” 

He stepped back and frowned in the way a parent frowns at a child who doesn’t understand why they can’t go to the park today. “Now take it easy, girl. It ain’t her fault she been left here, but we got too many people of our own dependin’ on us to risk bringin’ on someone else. What if she’s got the sickness? We got expectin’ ladies with us, my wife among them. I ain’t gonna bring in somebody we don’t know when we ain’t got the whole story.”

Buffy gritted her teeth against the rage building in her chest, not thinking how only a day before, she’d been weighing people’s value herself. It didn’t matter. Dawn was alone, and if the men had their way, she’d be dead within days whether from exposure, starvation, or the vampires taking a second round at the campsite. Unthinking, she stepped in front of Dawn and placed a hand on the hilt of her knife. Wes’s comment of “someone” echoed in her conscience, and before she could stop herself, the words came out.

“She’s coming with us - end of story. The way I see it, five people in our group owe me their lives after Redding. I risked MY life for theirs and they’re still alive because I didn’t do what you’re suggesting. So let’s call it a trade - their lives for hers. I made the decision to stop for five people; you’ve only got to do it for one.” 

Beard-Man’s eyes hardened, but he said nothing. The others looked nervously between them and waited for an indication of who would be victorious. Buffy didn’t break her gaze even when Wes stepped between them, a hand on each chest firmly pushing them apart. 

“That’s enough! We don’t have time to have this out here; we’re losing more daylight as it is just standing around. Now I hear you both, but Buffy’s right. We’re not leaving anyone behind, least of all a child with no protection. Darrel, we’ll discuss your concerns when we’re settled for the night-”

“Wes, I’m tellin’ ya, it ain’t -”

“No! I refuse to make this decision in an unsafe place with potential threats around. We’ll have it out, but she’s coming with us now. Is that clear?” 

Beard-Man-Darrel gave Buffy a hard glare, but nodded and backed away. “Fine,” he growled, “but she sticks with you. She don’t get near my Maggie or any of the kids or we’ll be ‘havin’ it out’ right quick. You get me, girl?” 

Her face fixed in a snarl, Buffy didn’t bother with a response. She kept a hand on her knife but turned away towards the child behind her. Her rage melted in an instant as she took in the tears streaming down Dawn’s face. She hadn’t said a single word during the argument but had obviously been more than aware of what was being considered. A line of snot began to fall from her nose, and she raised her dirty sleeve to wipe it away. Memories rose unbidden to Buffy’s mind.

_Mommy...I’m scared. Can I sleep with you?_

_Buffy? What time- of course, sweetheart. Come on. There you go, under the covers. Comfy?_

_Yeah. Can we snuggle?_

_Sure, baby. What scared you?_

_There was a monster in my closet. I think it was a vampire with red eyes and pointy teeth._

_Oh, Buffy - you know there’s no such things as monsters. But even if there were, you know I’d always protect you from them, right? I’d never let them hurt you._

_Right. I love you, Mommy._

_I love you, Buffy Anne. Go back to sleep now, I’ll keep you safe._

Behind her, Buffy heard the men begin to walk away from the campsite, but she chose to ignore them for a moment more. Unable to resist the temptation, she raised her hand, smoothed Dawn’s brown hair away from her eyes and wiped her tears with the hem of her shirt. Dawn watched her silently, fear and uncertainty making her eyes look bottomless and empty. 

All of her arguments about only the strongest deserving to go on in this new world were irrelevant now. Dawn was alone, just like her, but she wouldn’t have to be if Buffy had any say. Even if she couldn’t summon any particular goodwill for humanity at large, Buffy resolved to try to care about just this one person. She couldn’t save the world, but maybe...

She forced herself to give Dawn a small, strained smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and stood. When they moved to follow the others, Buffy couldn’t stop the small jolt of surprise that went through her body when a tiny hand reached up and grabbed hers tightly. 

This time the smile was real, and Buffy gave the little girl’s hand a squeeze before speaking.

“Come on, Dawnie. I’ll keep you safe.” 


	4. Cicuta douglasii (Water Hemlock)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: did you know that the Water Hemlock berry bears a striking resemblance to the Elderberry, which is now the cool chic thing to get healthy with? I didn't - this story is doing great things for my random trivia knowledge.
> 
> Thank you to those who have commented or left kudos! It helps the muse to stay full, fat, and happy!

**_Cicuta douglasii_ ** **(Water Hemlock)**

The walk back to the others had been made in silence, which suited Buffy just fine. Although it was a relatively easy terrain to hike, she noticed when Dawn’s feet began to catch on the dirt and her grip on Buffy’s hand had started to slack about halfway back. Without a word, she stopped and bent down, giving Dawn a head jerk to indicate that she should climb on. As soon as Buffy was back up and walking, she felt that twinge from before when Dawn gave a little sigh and rested her head in the middle of Buffy’s back. 

“Buffy, my tummy hurts.” The tired whisper was followed by an uncomfortable shift on Buffy’s back. 

Buffy frowned but didn’t stop. The others were already unhappy that Dawn was with them, no need to offer them even something so small as a tummy ache to confirm their beliefs that something was “wrong” with her and she should be left behind. 

“Just a little further, Dawnie. When we get back, you’ll be able to rest for a minute. Can you hang on a little longer?” 

Dawn nodded against her back and shifted once more before settling again. As Buffy trudged along, she listed all the reasons she could think of that might be the cause of a tummy ache in a seven year old. Hunger, thirst, poisonous snake bites, traumatic experiences that would leave most adults rocking back and forth in a padded room...the choices were endless, and unfortunately, there was nothing Buffy could do right then. She vaguely remembered Joyce giving her flat ginger ale when she was younger and sick with an upset stomach; too bad they weren’t exactly hoarding Canada Dry in their backpacks these days. 

Her thoughts kept her occupied for the remainder of the hike back. Trudging up last in the procession, she found herself unsurprised that the men had already taken wives and friends aside, whispering and fixing Buffy and Dawn with reproachful sideways glances. 

She caught Wes’s eye as she slipped Dawn off of her back and onto a comfortable piece of ground next to a tree. Looking down, she noted distractedly that the gash in her hand from earlier that morning had already healed; it must not have been as bad as she’d thought. Wes’s face was grim, but as she watched him sigh, give his glasses a quick wipe down, and square his shoulders, she smiled a little. She fully expected a Giles-worthy lecture to be in their near future. 

“Everyone, listen up!” His voice was commanding, and conversations slowed to a stop, bodies turning until they were facing him. 

“I’m sure you’re already being told about what we found this morning, as well as the fact that we brought someone back with us. If you have not had the chance to gossip yet, I’ll tell you simply - we found death: horrific, needless and gruesome. There was nothing we could do for those we found, but there was a minor miracle - a survivor. It has never been our practice to abandon other humans. Miss Dawn has proven to be a very brave young lady, and we will welcome her into our midst as we have so many others. 

He paused and took a deep breath. “I know there are concerns, but the truth of the matter is that this close to our destination, we cannot afford to fight or splinter, and we all stand a much better chance of staying alive together.” 

He stopped briefly to drop his gaze to Darrel, who frowned and tugged his pregnant wife closer. “Once we’ve arrived, your choices are your own. Until that time, I will not hear talk of anyone being left behind. Any attempts to...persuade another traveler to leave will be seen as an indication that you no longer require this caravan’s help to arrive safely. Do we all understand each other?” 

Darrel’s eyes narrowed until his wife leaned in to whisper something in his ear, hand rubbing circles on her swollen belly, and his shoulders dropped. Without response, he nodded and the whole group seemed to decide without speaking that the conversation was over. People started to move away and collect belongings, and before long, they were ready to start again. 

Wordlessly, Buffy looked down and stretched her hand down to help the little girl up from where she was sitting. Without having to speak to each other, both seemed to be in agreement that the back of the line would be the place for them.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

A few miles down the trail, Buffy turned to look at Dawn and reached her hand out to beckon her back to the trail _again_. “You look like you’re feeling a bit better. Are you getting tired? Do you need to ride on my back again for a while?” 

Dawn shook her head, clumsily hopping from the log she’d been walking on like a balance beam and falling into step with Buffy as best she could.

Arms swinging with the effortless, fairy-like movement of little girls, she chirped, “Yeah, I feel all better now. Wes said we’re close to our destination, Buffy. What’s that mean?” 

Buffy, trying to keep an eye on the trail ahead, absently responded “It means that soon we’ll be where we’re trying to go.” 

“Where are we trying to go?” 

Huffing when Dawn nearly tripped on a rock, Buffy bit back the knee-jerk desire to snap at her to watch where she was going. She might have decided to take care of the girl, but there was still rough terrain to follow and Buffy wasn’t used to anyone slowing her down or distracting her. Where Buffy would alternate her gaze between the ground ahead of her and the surrounding trees in case of danger, Dawn seemed content to be distracted by anything that took her fancy; a butterfly, a colorful leaf, and a family of squirrels had all managed to capture her attention at one point. Short of tying the child to her, Buffy was swiftly running out of patience and ideas on how to keep up with the rest of the group. Although she’d spent all her previous days of travel alone or at the head of the pack, Buffy was sure that the other children in their group weren’t this flighty or hard to corral.

Instead of snapping, she chose to take a deep breath. It had puzzled her when Dawn had seemed to quickly snap out of her fear and silence. After her experience, Buffy had expected the child to be quiet and withdrawn, clinging to her hand and more skittish than a deer. Instead, the farther they got from the massacred campground, the more Dawn appeared less like a war survivor and more like a woodland fairy prancing and dancing her way through the flora and fauna. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered an article from one of those boring magazines in doctor’s offices that had been about people blocking out bad memories because they were too awful to deal with; maybe that’s what Dawn was doing? Buffy didn’t know the first thing about helping a child process the horror that she’d likely witnessed, but she was pretty sure that letting Dawn pretend that nothing had happened and she’d just magically appeared inside that log wasn’t healthy either. 

A problem for later, though. The group was slowing ahead of them, and the murmurs spreading through were decidedly uneasy. Pulling Dawn behind her by her wrist, Buffy started to move forward, bouncing on tiptoe every few yards to try to see Wes. When she finally caught sight of him over the heads of the front-most people, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. In front of Wes stood a young-looking man with shaggy dark brown hair and an eyepatch. Behind him, two other men stood, armed with guns, crossbows, and several stakes. In all their weeks of travel, they hadn’t seen so much as a demon or single human, and now twice in one day they had if you counted dead people. Never mind that these ones seemed to have come loaded for bear. 

Wes looked tense, and Buffy quietly whispered to Dawn to hide in the group before walking towards him. When she’d slipped in wordlessly behind him, the stranger’s eye shifted to her briefly before continuing what he’d been saying. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. We’d been hoping to find the camp with some survivors. I guess that wasn’t so realistic, but...you always hope you can help, right?” Buffy stiffened - Wes hadn’t mentioned Dawn, then? And neither had anyone else within earshot, it seemed. 

“Quite.” Wes’s extra-British stiff stance and monosyllabic answers were more telling to Buffy than anything else. Whoever this was and whatever he had said, Wes was extremely wary. His hands were at his hips in an almost too-casual way, and Buffy noticed his fingers twitch towards the gun strapped to his thigh anytime one of the men behind the stranger moved. 

“Look, my men and I are headed back to the U.S. now. No sense in going on if there’s nothing to be done. You and your people should come with us.” 

“Pardon - the U.S.? Are we not still in the United States?” Wes’s puzzled expression caused the man to laugh almost apologetically. 

“Yeah, sorry...U.S. is short for ultimum spes; it’s Latin for ‘last hope’. The boss man has a few funny hobbies, old languages being one. The U.S. was one of the first camps to be set up after the world went all ker-blooey. For a lot of people, it was their last hope. There’s nothing to be found north of us until you get towards the Canadian Rockies, and most of the southern camps have all been destroyed by now. I’m guessing you came from one of them; Redding, probably.”

Wes’s eyebrows drew together and his body grew even stiffer. Any hint of casual indifference was gone; he was on the defensive and wanted the stranger to know it. 

“How did you hear about Redding? All the survivors from that camp are with us.”

The man smiled sheepishly before responding, “Let’s...just say that we get all kinds through the U.S., and everyone brings news from other places. We got the news about your camp about a week ago, but we didn’t have any way to confirm it or send help that far.” 

One of the men standing behind the stranger stepped up. “Look, we gotta get going if we wanna get back before the Boss sends out a retrieval party for our sorry asses. You guys coming or what?” The question was asked with a sneer, and Buffy wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer to be ‘yes’ or ‘no’. 

Wes’s mouth was set in a grim line, but Buffy couldn’t tell what he might be thinking. After a moment, he simply requested a moment to “confer with his people”. Wes, Buffy, and a group of five others stepped away from the strangers and discussed quietly. 

“Well, Wes, what are you thinking?” One of the older men asked once they were far enough away for privacy. 

Glancing back at the strangers, Wes frowned. “I’m thinking that we have a group of tired people who’ve been traveling over mountains for weeks including two women nearing the end of their pregnancies and several young children. There are obviously demons about, and while I believe we are capable of defending ourselves, I refuse to risk lives when we have another option. I don’t believe that I trust them, but if they are from the camp we’d heard rumors about, this might be the only chance we have at safety and medical care for our most vulnerable.” 

The men around the circle nodded and turned to work their way into the crowd behind them to spread the news. Buffy stayed behind, noting that Wes’s body language still looked battle-ready. She decided that short and sweet was the best approach and asked, “What aren’t you saying?” 

He shot her a hooded look and shifted his jaw. “It’s more what they aren’t saying. Nobody human made it out of Redding aside from those traveling with us, I’m certain. Or if they did, no one could have traveled the distance fast enough to make it up here in a week’s time. Radios have been down for months, phones for over a year now. The only way they could have known would be through a demon involved in the raid. Even their presence today is a bit of a mystery - they claim they were on a hunting trip and happened to see the smoke this morning, just as we did. It’s possible, I suppose, but seems a coincidence. What if they are connected to the demons that attacked those poor people? Can we risk that?” 

Buffy hadn’t thought of that, and suddenly she couldn’t take her eyes off the small group of strangers. The one with the eyepatch caught her gaze and, to her surprise, offered a smile. 

“Do you think they’re human?” 

After a moment’s consideration, Wes nodded. “Certainly not vampires, are they? And no distinguishing marks that even human-passing demons would have. Which begs the question of what kind of humans have demon connections and relationships in these times?” 

It wouldn’t have occurred to Buffy that humans might have been associated with the horrific attacks on the Redding camp or the massacre they’d found this morning, but the idea was stuck in her head now. She couldn’t help imagining the kind-looking man with his eyepatch standing watch as demons swarmed by him to attack their camp. What kind of people could be a part of that kind of destruction when there were so few people left? The idea left her with a bitter taste in her mouth and an unpleasant squeezing feeling in her stomach. This is why it was easier to just worry about herself; why the only person she could value was herself...well, herself and Dawn now, she guessed. 

Her eyes must have betrayed her thoughts more than Wes’s ever did because he felt the need to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“Buffy...we’ll keep them safe. We’ll go along and get more information, but we’ll keep them safe.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, looking into the crowd to find Dawn. She was suddenly desperate to keep the child close. They would go along to this ‘last hope’ place, and if worse came to worst, she felt confident that she could get Dawn out and to safety even if it meant abandoning others. No, that was a lie...if worse came to absolute worst, Buffy would take out the small handful of water hemlock berries she kept in a hidden pocket of her backpack and tell Dawn they were special treats before eating some herself. 

She’d come across them one day and had never been more thankful for her handy dandy guide; the handful she’d grabbed was enough to take out any normal person, and she’d even grabbed extra to offset any potential healing surprises. Wes didn’t know about them; no one did. They were Buffy’s ace in the hole in case things ever got to the point that...well, she’d know when she got there. While not a pleasant way to die, hemlock poisoning was preferable to any number of fates that Buffy had seen or could imagine. 

Spotting Dawn’s tell-tale mop of uncombed brown hair, Buffy worked her way into the crowd of people. She was surprised to find Dawn sitting cross-legged next to Jessie apart from the rest of the group; her hand encased Jessie’s and a comforting look on her face. When Buffy looked more closely at the other woman, she felt a flash of worry tighten in her stomach. Jessie’s face was red, but her lips were white with pressure. She was rocking slightly and the hand not in Dawn’s rubbed firm circles into her stomach. 

No one seemed to be paying them any attention - Jessie had no family traveling with them and people were all but purposefully ignoring Dawn. As Buffy drew closer, she could hear the woman’s soft murmuring. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll be all right. You can’t come yet, sweet thing, Mommy can’t do this yet.” _Oh god...not now,_ Buffy’s mind began to whirl. 

While Buffy felt herself begin to panic, Dawn seemed to be exuding calm. Her voice was bright and cheerful when she spoke to Jessie. “It’ll be okay, Miss Jessie. Don’t be scared, I’ll sit with you till it don’t hurt anymore.” She patted Jessie’s hand in a distinctly maternal way. 

“Maybe it’s those Baxter Hick things? You know, the fake labor?” Buffy offered in what she hoped was a hopeful voice. 

Jessie’s laugh was hoarse, but she gave Buffy a genuine smile. “Braxton Hicks? It could be, I guess. Sure hope so - my water hasn’t broken, but I didn’t think fake anything could feel this bad.” 

They’d only been sitting for about five minutes, Buffy contemplating whether it would be more helpful to quietly find Wes and let him know what was happening or run around like a chicken with her head cut off in order to get the others to notice. They were running out of time to make a choice. Without knowing if Jessie was really in labor, it was hard to say what was the right thing. The hardened, post-world-ending Buffy said that if she was in labor, there were others who would know what to do and it shouldn’t be her concern. Pre-doomsday Buffy couldn’t stop herself from seeing a mirror of the day Joyce died. Another mother in pain, suffering, and nothing Buffy could do except scream for someone to do something because she couldn’t. Typical Buffy; great for avoiding vampires and finding edible plants in the forest but useless when it came to doing anything that could actually help. 

Buffy forced herself to shove the thoughts aside. Now was not the time for self-pity, and Jessie was not Joyce. Resolved to be of some use, she turned back to Dawn and Jessie to tell them that she’d find Wes and someone who could help, words of assurance gathering in her mouth. 

“Buffy, look! Miss Jessie feels better!” Dawn’s cheerful voice shook Buffy out of her surprised silence when she turned to them only to see Jessie’s face back in its normal color, muscles relaxed, and with no signs of the distress of only minutes ago. 

Jessie’s eyes were crinkled with relief. “I guess you were right - must have just been a false alarm this time. This baby sure has a funny sense of humor with his timing, though.” 

Buffy swallowed thickly and nodded. It sure had seemed like the real thing. To be fair, everything she knew about childbirth came from after-school programs on the Discovery Channel, but Jessie’s face hadn’t looked like there was anything “fake” about what was happening to her. The human body was capable of scary things. 

Trying to smile reassuringly, Buffy asked, “Are you sure you’re all right? It looks like we’re getting ready to leave, and you should probably -”

The woman interrupted with a tired huff. “I’m fine, Buffy, I promise. Feel good as new, actually. Shouldn’t surprise me too much, I guess. Pregnancy is just ten long months of flip-flopping between normal and crazy. The closer I get, maybe the crazier it gets.” 

Anything was possible, and Buffy didn’t feel like they had time to worry so long as Jessie could travel now. The group wouldn’t wait. Not for her. Not for them. 

Dawn released Jessie’s hand to reach for Buffy’s as they began to walk, again taking their place at the back of the line. 

“Buffy?”

“Yeah, Dawnie?” 

“My tummy hurts again.” 

Buffy glanced down at her little charge. Yet another thing she felt she didn’t have time to worry about. Did all seven year olds have such finicky insides? Maybe all the excitement was finally getting to her. 

“I’m sorry. We’ve got to walk now, though, and keep an eye on Jessie. Do you think you can help me do that?”

Children shouldn’t look so serious, she decided, as Dawn looked as though Buffy had asked her to guard something precious with her life. Dawn nodded solemnly and gripped Buffy’s hand tighter. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

It took another night and a complete day of travel to reach their destination, with Buffy dragging Dawn along the whole way and casting worried glances at Jessie. Both of her unexpected traveling companions had surprised her, though. After a few hours, Dawn’s stomach pains had gone away and her perky attitude had kept Buffy and Jessie entertained. When the terrain had gotten more difficult to maneuver through, Buffy would go first so that she could help Jessie while watching Dawn bounce from rock to rock like a mountain goat. 

That night, they rested in a clearing, the lines between the strangers, Buffy and Dawn, and the rest of their group stark and clear. While Jessie had been happy to walk with them all day, unlike Buffy, she was able to move naturally with the others and joined them shortly after they’d stopped for the night. She was pleasant and didn’t draw attention to herself, which explained why she’d allowed Buffy and Dawn to help her earlier. Nobody would notice her hidden behind the shield of their social leprosy and because of her unassuming demeanor; no one would hold it against her either. Buffy wasn’t sure if that meant that the woman would ignore or scorn them like everyone else now, but she decided not to worry about it too much. Along with the miracle of childbirth in the wild, the Discovery Channel had also taught her that in the animal kingdom, packs were made of the strong, and those on the outside were avoided. 

Dawn didn’t seem bothered by the absence of the other woman either, simply staying close to Buffy and alternating between making teepees in the longer grasses and asking endless questions. Buffy answered what she could with half her attention, the other half devoted to keeping a watchful eye on the strangers. When they’d finally gone to sleep, Buffy had pulled Dawn, happily snuggling Mr. Gordo, closer to her body and put herself between the little girl and the rest of the world. 

The next day had been much of the same. Jessie had dropped back to walk with them again, her easy smile making it impossible for Buffy to snap that she should stay with the rest of **them**. It had made it easier, however, for her to periodically make her way to the front and check in with Wes. 

It was almost sunset when Wes signaled for the group to stop. They’d just crossed a small river and the group was looking worn. Buffy nudged Dawn and Jessie towards the front in case they were stopping for the evening; by the time they got there, Wes and Eyepatch-Man were standing together looking out at everyone. 

Eyepatch man stepped forward and addressed the caravan. “Okay, can everyone hear me?” The crowd shifted and a few tired voices replied. 

“In case I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself, my name is Alexander Harris - most people call me Xander. The good news is we’re almost to the camp. In fact, that river we just crossed was one of our borders, so let me be the first to welcome you to the U.S. I need to talk to you for a few minutes before we continue so that you go in with a clear understanding of what you’re agreeing to if you stay here.”

A few faces became worried, Jessie’s included. Buffy simply squeezed Dawn’s hand in her own and kept listening. 

“No one here has missed out on the fact that our world is all sorts of crazy right now. You’ve been through some tough times, and nothing about our lives is simple. We’ve all had to make choices in order to survive and we’ve had to become different people than who we were before. In the next few minutes, you’re probably going to have to make that choice again because the U.S. isn’t like the camp you came from in a few pretty important ways.”

Wes was beginning to look suspicious behind him, not that Xander could tell. Buffy suddenly felt a little sick as several ways the camp could be “different” came to mind. As it turned out, none of them were even close to what came out of the man’s mouth next. 

“The first thing you should know is the U.S. is not a solely human camp. As of last week, we have residents from six different species, but the largest groups are the humans and the vampires.” 

A few shocked cries rose from the crowd, but Xander raised his arm and they quieted to urgent whispers. Buffy’s eyes widened and fell down to Dawn, who’d gone pale beside her. 

“Before you ask any questions, let me explain a bit. U.S. is led by a master vampire. Angel is...unique among vampires in that he has a soul. That’s a good thing - all other vampires have no soul and are not bound to any sense of morality but their own. When Angel started this place, he wanted somewhere where demons and humans who desired safety and peace could find a home. All vampires who live here are bound by a blood oath that keeps them from killing humans and the only demons allowed are those who do not hunt humans by nature. There are several rules and practices in place to protect everyone who lives there, most of which you’ll hear from Angel himself should you choose to join us. You should also know that while you are an independent person and subject to yourselves, the rules and expectations of the U.S. are enforced and there are consequences for breaking them.”

He paused for a moment, taking in the reactions of the people in front of him. For her part, Buffy felt frozen in place. How could this be happening? They’d come so far to have their legs kicked out at the finish line. She barely noticed Xander continue his speech.

“You’ll be expected to pull your weight and contribute to the community. Everyone works; everyone eats; everyone survives. While most groups stick to their own, you will have to work around and potentially with members of another species. Prejudice and hostility towards those of another species is not tolerated. You will be safe there, but you are not going to be the dominant species. You have to be able to live with that.”

Nobody in the crowd looked as though they planned to be first to come forward and sign on the dotted line, but a few faces were open and interested. Others were shuttered and wary, while a few looked downright murderous. Wes was glancing from face to face, seemingly taking stock of the reactions of his people, but gave no indication about his own thoughts. 

Xander seemed to realize that he was swiftly running out of time and good graces with a few of them. “You should know the benefits before you make your choice. Once that choice is made and you choose to walk away, I can’t guarantee that there’ll be a space for you later. We have two doctors in our numbers, teachers, agriculturalists, and mechanics. All of our residents are trained to protect themselves and their families and take turns on rotation to guard our perimeter. We took over some farmland awhile back and have several good hunters among our human and demon population, so you won’t starve.” 

He paused once more, looking out over the crowd and, Buffy could swear, landing his eyes right on her and Dawn. “You won’t be forced to come here. No one is. If you think that this is not the place for you, you will be escorted to the border and left alone. But if you come, you need to be prepared to live life a little differently from now on.”

When he finished, he stepped back to let Wes address them next. He seemed to be thinking carefully about what words to use, and for the first time since Buffy met him, looked like he was having trouble finding words at all. 

“This is a decision...that I cannot make for you. Only you know if this is a place where you and your families will thrive, and I’ll not waste anyone’s time by pretending that I know what the right course of action is. I urge each of you to consider carefully and make your decision based on your own needs and abilities.” 

After his short invocation, Wes stepped down and made his way into the crowd as people began to break off to discuss with friends and family. Buffy watched him weave his way straight to where she and Dawn were standing. Jessie had broken away for a moment, talking to Maggie, the other pregnant woman on the journey. 

When he reached them, his shoulders slumped and his face drawn and tight, Buffy couldn’t take the tension anymore. She fixed him with a knowing, sidelong smile. “Remember those bears we were talking about earlier? Bet you never thought running into them would sound like the safest option, didja? 

“You and your bloody bears. I’m surprised we haven’t lost you to them like Tarzan in the jungle yet.” His grousing was good-natured and some of the tightness in his shoulders seemed to ease. 

“So, what’s the plan?” She asked, eyeing Xander and his men standing awkwardly off to one side. 

Wes followed her gaze, sighing before replying, “Well, I suppose that depends on how you feel about Canadian Winters. Myself, I’d just as soon settle here.” 

Buffy remembered the mention of another camp supposedly up near the Canadian Rockies, but the idea of weeks - maybe months- more of travel made her feet twinge in exhaustion. Still…

“Do you think it’s a trap? Lure the unsuspecting humans in and then ambush them and chow down?” Visions of the carnage at the campsite flashed before her eyes and she couldn’t help but imagine vampires hiding behind large foreboding gates leading to the camp, waiting for their meal to come to them.

Wes shook his head. “I think if that were the case, he wouldn’t have bothered telling us about the demon aspect of everything, let alone that they’re led by a vampire. Angel...I’ve heard of that one, but the soul is an interesting supposition. I can’t see any human claiming to be led by him in his soulless incarnation unless they were in thrall or unspeakably evil. Our guests haven’t given the impression of being in either of those categories, so I have to assume that they’re telling the truth. What about you? What are you thinking?” 

Buffy shifted uncomfortably and looked at Dawn; she hadn’t eased its constrictor-like grip on Buffy’s hand nor had her face lost its pallor since Xander got up to speak. She seemed frozen in shock except for eyes flitting like a hummingbird from person to person around her. Buffy knelt down in front of her, gently rubbing her shoulder and waiting until the child was able to focus on her. 

Again thinking of her mother and how she would have handled this situation. Joyce had always believed that children should be spoken to like adults as much as possible; Buffy hoped she was right because she couldn’t think of a way of explaining their situation in a child-friendly way. 

“Dawnie, I know this is scary. You know I’m gonna stick with you though, right? You know I won’t leave you alone?” 

Dawn’s had tucked her chin to her chest, long hair hiding her face. She wouldn’t look up but nodded silently. 

“Buffy, I’m scared of the monsters.” 

_Oh, Buffy - you know there’s no such things as monsters._ Joyce’s voice rang out in her mind. _Oh Mommy, there really are._

“I know, Dawn. I know that this is a really big choice we’re making, but...I don’t know if I can take care of you like you need if we keep going. Some others will go on and try to find another place, but I don’t know if that place is even there. I know this one is here and I know that no matter what, I’ll keep you safe.”

The little girl stared at her with an unsure expression, then slowly stuck out a hand, pinky finger extended. “Pinky swear?”

Buffy smiled, tightly linking her pinky with Dawn’s. “Pinky swear, Kiddo.”

Dawn’s hand tightly clasped in her own, Buffy finally stood to look at Wes again. “Okay, Watcher Man, we’re with you. Let’s go see our new home sweet home.” 

In the end, only half the group decided to stay and enter the camp; the other half - which Buffy happily noticed included Darrel and his wife, Maggie - said they’d camp outside the borders of the U.S. tonight and start the trip towards Canada in the morning. 

Buffy found she wasn’t surprised when Jessie quietly slipped in beside them while they waited. In a low whisper, she explained that she’d rather take her chances with the vampires than try to give birth in the middle of the woods with no help. Her eyes lowered for a moment; then she glanced furtively back at Maggie and Darrel. She added that prejudice did funny things to people and she wasn’t sure if she’d really be avoiding the monsters if she went to Canada. Jessie’s frown eased when Dawn reached over to pat her belly and give her a small hug before returning to Buffy’s side. 

When everyone had made their choice and said their goodbyes, those deciding to stay looked to Xander for instruction. He gestured for them to follow him down the hill and further into the woods. As the sun set behind them, Buffy could see the glow of lit fires in the distance. Every step seemed in time with the pounding of her heart; who knew if this place would be a sanctuary or a death sentence? 

When they stepped beyond the tree line to see the stretch of a large wooden wall, Buffy wondered if she’d made the right choice. A hundred yards ahead of them, a large gate was opening; inside, people gathered to take a look at the incoming refugees. The twilight and bright fires only served to highlight the inhuman features in front of them. A few sported ridged foreheads, yellow eyes, and fangs; others bore no resemblance to humans at all. 

Dawn shivered beside Buffy and clung to her hand. Jessie’s hand moved habitually over her stomach as her wide eyes darted from creature to creature. Wes seemed to be opting for the tried and true British Watcher approach - his back straight, eyes forward; his upper lip set as stiff as a board. For her part, Buffy was desperately resisting the urge to settle a hand on the knife sheathed at her hip; every slayer instinct inside balking at willingly walking into an enclosed space with vampires and demons. 

Stopping just in front of the gate, Xander turned to the small group and gave a smile that seemed out of place in front of the demonic expressions behind him. He swept out an arm as if gesturing a guest into a home and called out, “Let me be the first to welcome you to Ultimum Spes- the Last Hope. Welcome home!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next on Buffy the Explorer: Ready to meet the boys?


	5. Lactuca virosa (Wild Lettuce)

**_Lactuca virosa_ ** **(Wild Lettuce)**

For a brief moment, it was as if they were caught in a bubble. The only sounds Buffy could hear as they trudged through the massive gate were the crackling of campfires and the shuffling of their feet as they moved into the camp. It was almost like walking into a really creepy wax museum; no one even seemed to blink. 

The bubble popped when someone new approached Xander and the other men from the camp who’d traveled with them. His face was distorted with ridges and fangs when he walked up; Buffy couldn’t help her hand sliding to the hilt of her knife in expectation of an attack. When Xander met him with an arm extended and a wide grin, Buffy forced herself to relax. The two men clasped arms and the vampire clapped Xander on the shoulder; his demon guise dropped and left behind a surprisingly normal-looking human face. Long straight black hair fell loosely around a sharply angled face, and his tan made Buffy’s inner California girl jealous. If she hadn’t known beforehand that he was a vampire, she might have thought him handsome. 

“Harris! Good to see ya! I told Angel nothin’ was gonna eat ya - you smell too bad!” Even without fangs, the smile he gave Xander rubbed Buffy the wrong way. The way his lips curled up around his teeth reminded her of the Big Bad Wolf in Grandma’s clothes. _All the better to eat you with, my dear,_ Buffy thought.

Xander didn’t seem bothered at all and easily returned the friendly embrace. He laughed and responded, “You know me, Ax. Couldn’t stay away from your ugly mug too long; knew you’d miss me too much and have to cry yourself to sleep every morning!” 

Pleasantries exchanged, the vampire’s eyes shifted from Xander to the group behind him. In an overly exaggerated way, he ran his tongue over his teeth. “Brought me some new meat, didja? Good man.” His gaze touched everyone, but Buffy could swear it stopped a moment longer on her, Jessie, and Dawn. 

Xander cuffed him on the arm and frowned. “Lay off, Axel. These people are tired, hungry, and probably pretty freaked out enough without you drooling like a bad horror movie. I’m taking them to Angel. He around?”

Axel shrugged, black eyes rolling with annoyance. “Oh yeah, he’s around. Ain’t seen him yet tonight, but he’s probably loungin’ on his throne, holdin’ court like the big chief he is.”

Xander nodded, patting the other man’s shoulder in thanks. “I’ll see you when I’m done with the new folks, Axel. Make sure they save me some grub this time?” 

The vampire smiled that Big Bad Wolf smile again and joked, “I dunno, man. You’re gettin’ kinda chunky. Pretty soon even fledge’s’ll have a decent shot at your fat ass.” With that parting endearment, he addressed the crowd and saluted insolently. “See ya ‘round, New Meats. Try not ta piss yourselves in fright on the first night.” He shifted back into his demon face and snapped his jaws once for emphasis, grinning widely when one of the women squealed in fear.

When he swaggered away with two other vampires at his side, Xander turned around and offered almost apologetically, “Ignore him. Vampires have the capability to be huge assholes just like everyone else. He doesn’t mean anything by it.” Nobody looked like they quite believed him, but everyone followed him further into the camp anyways. 

Xander brought them to a low wooden building that reminded Buffy a bit of the Native American longhouses she’d seen in a library book once as a kid. There were two plumes of smoke rising through opened vents in the roof, but only one entrance guarded by a fierce-looking man and woman. The entrance had a wide double door that had been left open; inside Buffy could see a large gathering of people. 

When they finally entered the building, Buffy moved Dawn to walk behind her, the little girl’s hand still tightly clasped in hers. They stayed towards the middle of their small group as they all slowly moved deeper into the building. At the front, Buffy could see a kind of raised platform where a large man was sitting. He leaned back in a brown leather chair, his eyes glancing back and forth between two people arguing in front of him. Buffy couldn’t hear what the argument was about, but one was clearly human and the other...clearly not. Not a vampire, but some kind of demon with red eyes and rolls upon rolls of skin that seemed to shift like waves in the ocean with every move of his body. 

As their small group made their way toward the front of the building, the conversations seemed to stall as everyone stopped to look at the newcomers. Even the two supplicants at the front halted their debate when Xander broke through the line of people to present them. The man at the front said nothing at first; he simply sat up in his chair and leaned forward. He set an imposing figure: broad shoulders, deep brown eyes, and more forehead than he maybe needed, but somehow it worked for him. He was alone on the platform, which led Buffy to assume this was the famous “Angel”. 

Once Xander was at the base of the platform, Angel stood up and descended to grasp his arm the same way Axel had before. He offered a small smile and a “Welcome home” to Xander before looking at the group behind him. Xander leaned close to be able to whisper for a few moments to Angel - presumably who all the unknown people were - and when he finished, Angel nodded once. He stepped back onto the platform and faced them, a solemn expression on his face. 

“Welcome, everyone. My name is Angel, and I run things here at the U.S. Xander tells me you’ve had a long journey, so I won’t keep you long.” He folded his arms stiffly, and Buffy wondered if he thought it made him look more intimidating. 

“Let me lay out the hard and fast rules here; there aren’t many. Rule number one: no killing. We’ve got a lot of different kinds of beings here, and no one’s life is worth more than anyone else’s. Understand that if you take a life in this camp, you forfeit your own.”

While it seemed harsh, Buffy was glad for such a cut and dry rule. If there was one thing she’d learned in this nightmare, it was that people would do awful things if they thought they could. At the Redding camp, people had been maimed or killed for the trinkets in their backpacks; sometimes for even less than that.

“Rule two: You contribute to the camp in some way or you leave. Everyone here works, so everyone lives. After you’ve had a chance to get settled, you’ll meet the people responsible for putting everyone where they’ll be of the most use. Try to think of any skills you have in particular to help them make that choice, but it might just be that we have a need here at camp and you provide a body.” 

Buffy listed her greatest assets in her head. Fighting… hunting… at least a dozen cheerleading routines and an uncanny knack for running into trouble? They’d have a use for her for sure! Buffy wondered what that would mean for Dawn though; were the kids expected to work too? 

“Rule Three: Whatever you brought in with you is yours and stealing isn’t tolerated. End of story. You need other things, you use community resources or you make a trade. This goes for everything. Housing, food, and medicine will mostly come from our community stock, but if you want something different, you trade or you work for it. The consequences for stealing are high and will depend on who you stole from.” 

That made Buffy nervous; not that she had plans of stealing, but what did it mean that the consequence depended on who you stole from? How would stealing from a human end different than stealing from a vampire? 

Angel paused for a moment before continuing, “Which leads me to the last rule: barter with honor. We share what we can, but when you need something from another resident, offer them a fair price. What people value will differ. For example, humans tend to trade highest for meat and medicines. If you happen to find a cat or a litter of kittens, you take it straight to the loose skinned demons for trade. Vampires will always trade for blood.” 

A few blanched noticeably, including Buffy. Blood? How...

“You should be aware that there are currently fifteen vampires living here. That tends to make people nervous, so you need to know what it takes for a vampire to join us here at U.S. We have a powerful witch or two with us who place every potential vampire resident under a blood oath. They cannot kill another resident. They cannot bite a resident without permission. Even with permission, they cannot take so much blood as to incapacitate or mortally wound a resident. A vampire who does any of these things has two choices: leave or dust. There haven’t been many because our system has worked.”

From somewhere behind her, Buffy heard one of the refugees quietly ask the person next to him, “You think he expects us to believe that? What the hell else do they eat other than us?” He obviously had no idea that vampire hearing was much better than human hearing; that explained why the man froze when Angel stopped his speech and looked straight at him. 

“There’s plenty of wildlife in the area to keep the vampires fed. That’s one of the reasons we use blood as currency here; human blood is preferable to most, but it is not a necessity. We can survive on animal blood just as humans can survive as vegetarians.”

The man shrunk back, obviously embarrassed by being called out. 

Buffy noticed the way the other vampires in the room had shifted uncomfortably when Angel had mentioned being a ‘vegetarian’ and wondered if they agreed with him. Angel noticed too; all it took was his narrowed eyes and the other vampires straightened their backs and stilled.

He continued calmly, “I know that humans have every reason to feel threatened by vampires; I understand that it will take time for you to adjust. But let me assure you that you are safe here. There is no need to be afraid of any -”

BANG!

Angel’s speech was stopped mid-sentence by the door slamming open at the back of the building. Buffy whirled around to see two human men hauling another between them. In front of them, walking in long, purposeful strides towards the front, was another vampire in full game face. He wore black from head to toe, including a long, dark leather duster that had certainly seen better days. He made his way quickly through the crowd of people and up to Angel’s platform without waiting for the men behind him. 

“Oi, Peaches! Send one of the lads out for one of the witches! We couldn’t find them on the way in and the old man went and got himself bit by one of those rattler snakes out by the river. Not sure how long it’s been; I happened across him on my hunt - lucky sod.” He gestured back at one of the men holding onto the injured one.

The men were just passing where Buffy, Dawn, and Jessie were standing when the one closest to them tripped on the rough wooden floor and lost his grip. The old man began to fall without the support at his side and reached out blindly. He grabbed onto Dawn’s arm; the little girl gave out a shrill scream and struggled in his grasp before Buffy had time to process what had happened. Even though it only took a few seconds to pull him away, Buffy was sure that Dawn would have new bruises tomorrow. Buffy pulled Dawn into her arms and stroked the little girl’s hair as she whimpered, listening to the man’s groans of pain as they moved him forward.

Angel didn’t immediately respond to the new vampire’s request, but he did move back onto the platform, subtly placing himself higher than the other man. The blonde’s features began to shift as he approached, and Buffy took in the human face that replaced his bumps and fangs. He had nearly white blonde hair that sat in a mess of curls on his head; Buffy almost laughed when she wondered how he managed bleach out here. At least it kind of worked for him. He had a long, almost severely sharp face and his icy blue eyes seemed as expressive as his smirking mouth. In fact, the unspoken messages being sent out just from his smile gave Buffy the impression that he was likely a recurring pain in King Angel’s ass. 

“Wha’s the hold up? Got a human what needs saving over here. In’t that your gig? Thought you’d be happy I brought him back instead of lettin’ him die out there with the beasties. The fangy bugger got him right on the leg; he sure as hell wasn’ gettin’ back on his own.” 

Angel let out a deep, threatening growl that had every human and subordinate vampire present flinching and taking a few steps back. Dawn buried her face into Buffy’s midriff at the sound and Buffy glanced around quickly to figure out what kind of weapons might be on hand. The blonde man seemed unaffected at first, but when the growl persisted and Angel fixed him with a particular expression, the man eventually tilted his head down almost imperceptibly and took a step back. 

With their respective spots in the hierarchy reaffirmed, Angel addressed the man. “You’re right, Spike. Jacob!” At Angel’s call, a small, red-haired boy materialized in front of the platform. 

“Yes, Mr. Angel?” 

“Go find Willow or Tara. Tell them we’ve got a man with a snake bite who needs their help.”

The boy nodded energetically, hardly waiting for the big man to finish his instructions before taking off. At Angel’s wave, he was out the door in a flash. Once they’d settled the old man as comfortably as they could in a corner of the room, attention turned back to the two vampires at the front. 

“Well, I believe that counts as my good deed for the night. Never did get to finish my hunt, so I’d best be off before someone else needs saving.” Spike hadn’t even finished turning before Angel stopped him. “No, stay awhile, Spike. It’d be good for our new residents to get familiar with you in case you ever ‘happen across’ them one night. Wouldn’t want my second in command to get staked by accident because someone thought he was a dangerous vampire, would I?” 

The contrast between the look of barely controlled rage on Spike’s face and the cool, almost amused look on Angel’s face made it clear that this was a power struggle that came up often. Buffy was surprised when instead of arguing, Spike rolled his eyes and moved to a corner of the room behind Angel. 

Wes cleared his throat, claiming everyone’s attention. He had apparently decided to take the role of spokesman for their group and set himself in front of Buffy and Dawn. “What are the available accommodations for us? As you can see, we do have a woman near the end of a pregnancy and several children.”

Buffy felt unnerved by the pointed look that several of the vampires in the room gave Jessie then. Hunger was hunger no matter who you were. Even though Buffy wasn’t sure how she’d fare against that many attackers in one room, she still placed a hand on Jessie’s shoulder and fixed the vampires with a cold glare for effect. When her gaze moved towards the front and caught Spike’s, her eyes narrowed at his returned expression. He was amused by her; one scarred eyebrow arched and that insolent smile was back on his face. Buffy resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him and simply moved her gaze away; she returned her focus to Wes and Angel just in time to catch the end of Angel’s response. 

“...several tents and small cabins on the outer edges of camp. Singles with no families get bunked up together to save space. We try to set up families in sturdier homes if we can, but we’ve had a lot of newcomers this summer. Right now we’ve got people working to build a few new cabins in time for winter. Your people will help that along; more bodies means the work gets done faster.”

Jessie leaned into Buffy, whispering nervously, “Do you think they’ll let us stay together? I don’t think they’ll believe that Dawn’s your daughter, but maybe your sister? I don’t want to be with more strangers.” 

Buffy hadn’t even considered the idea that they might try to split up her and Dawn. Now the thought caused a tight jolt of panic to spread from her stomach all the way to the rest of her body like an electric shock. She looked down at Dawn, running her hand over the girl’s head again, noticing she looked a little flushed. She wasn’t surprised; this situation was quickly becoming nerve-wracking. Wes’s next question brought her back. 

“You mentioned bartering with honor. How are we to know if we are being treated fairly? As newcomers with little to offer but we’ve carried with us, how would we know a fair price to offer or if we were being taken advantage of by those,” he pointedly glared at a few of the vampires and demons around the room, ”who might require currency that is new to us?”

Angel settled into his chair again, looking every inch the alpha wolf. _Or bat...do vampires actually turn into bats?_ Buffy’s idle wonderings were best kept to herself, she figured. 

“If you have questions or concerns that you aren’t being treated fairly, you come to one of the group leaders or me. Each species group has one or two trusted members who can mediate a dispute or judge the fairness of a trade. For the humans, you’d go to Xander Harris first. For Vampires, you’d ask Spike here before coming to me.” At the mention of his name, Spike gave a lazy two-fingered salute. 

“What of the others, like the Kwaini demon we passed on our entry?” Wes asked. 

“You’ll learn who to go to as you start to trade and work with them. If for whatever reason you don’t feel that the issue has been resolved, you can bring them to me and I’ll be the mediator. You should know, though, that there is no law system but us. If you bring a complaint to me, I’ll hear you out and I’ll pass judgment, but that judgment is final and the matter is considered closed whether you’re happy or not.” 

Wes’s expression spoke clearly of his thoughts on the fairness of the arrangement; Angel continued, his dark eyes narrowed, “You don’t like the rules; you don’t have to stay. People can leave at any time. Our rules work for us and they keep us alive and strong. You want to go somewhere else, Watcher? You feel free to do that.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in shock; Wes had a similar look on his face, sputtering a moment before asking, “How did you-”

Angel cut him off. “You’re a Brit a long way from home; you want to be seen as in charge and in control by asking all the questions; you’re knowledgeable of other demons by name and on sight and don’t seem particularly surprised by them. What the hell else would you be?”

Wes seemed to consider for a moment but remained silent. 

Angel spread himself across his chair; the effect made him look larger and unconcerned by this new information. “I admit, I didn’t think there were any Watchers left. You all seemed to fall off the face of the world when everything blew up, including your Slayer. Those of us left had to find a way to survive and we have. No Slayer, no Council, no military, and we all still manage to get along. Can you handle that, Watcher? Can you live under a vampire’s rule?” Despite his relaxed stance in his seat and almost mocking tone, the look in his eyes was hard and cold. 

Buffy was beginning to wonder if they’d made a mistake in coming here. The number of demons around had her hackles up anyway, but this Angel was rubbing her in all the wrong ways. Just as she reached out to touch Wes’s shoulder and ask him to reconsider, the door at the back opened loudly again. The boy Angel had sent out ran in trailed by a woman with bright red hair. In one hand she held a small, lumpy bag; in the other, she held her long skirts up enough to allow her to move quickly through the crowd.

All the woman had to do was breathlessly ask, “Angel, where?” and the large vampire’s demeanor softened. He pointed towards the corner where they’d settled the elderly man. 

The tension between the two men was forgotten as the entire room focused on the new arrival and her work. She examined the man with sure hands, occasionally muttering under her breath or reaching away to dig in her bag. Without looking up, she asked, “How long since the bite?”

Spike spoke up from his spot near Angel’s platform. “Found him just after sunset about half an hour ago, Red, and brought him straight in. Not sure how long he was there before.” 

She looked up in surprise. “That long? Are you sure this was a rattler?”

The blonde vampire huffed and shrugged. “How should I know? Found the old man moanin’ and groanin’ about a snake near the river. Didn’t exactly stop to interrogate the local wildlife, did I?” 

The woman - Willow, Angel had called her - looked up and frowned at Spike for a moment before turning to Angel. “I’m going to take him to the clinic to keep an eye on him. I’ve given him some wild lettuce to chew on to help with the pain, but he’ll be more comfortable there where I can make sure it doesn’t get worse. If this was a rattler, he should be in a lot worse shape by now; there aren’t any other poisonous snakes around here. I’m not sure what else it could have been, but he’s not showing any typical signs of poisoning.” 

Angel nodded and signaled to two men nearby to help Willow hoist the old man up. When they’d made their way out of the room, the focus returned to the two men at the front. Wes and Angel eyed each other carefully; Wes was the first to look away. When Angel spoke again, some of the ice had left his tone. 

“I know what a former Watcher probably thinks he knows about us. In most cases, you’d probably be right. But we take care of our own here and our people are as safe as we can be. You’ve led these people a long way; don’t risk their safety now because you think you know who I am. Those old Council books missed a lot.”

Wes opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it and simply closed it again. He nodded once at Angel, slowly stretching his arm out towards the other man. Angel stepped off the platform to meet the offer; the two leaders clasped arms and that, it seemed, was that. 

After a few minutes of answering people’s last questions, Angel waved them off towards Xander to be shown the camp and settled in; the vampire himself turned and left the room without a backward glance. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Xander’s tour of the camp reminded Buffy of a tour through a museum her mother had forced her to go on when she was nine; he was just like the man who’d pointed out all the things that could be found ‘there on your left’. Well, he would have if the museum tour guide had had any inflection and used a lot of corny jokes. 

“Aaaaaand over there you’ll see our fabulous chow hall where you can find things that resemble food three times a day! The fine folks who make our daily bread are worthy of great praise when you happen to be in earshot - Hello, Angie! Looking forward to eating that stew sometime tonight! I hear we’ve got honest to god potatoes; don’t know how I’ll get along without my instant spuds, but I know you’ll do your best!” He waved amiably at a severe looking middle-aged woman who walked out of the ‘chow hall’. She glared at him and rolled her eyes skyward before turning to go back inside. 

“Notice I said ‘within earshot’. Out of earshot, I’ll do you a solid and warn you away from anything they call oatmeal. We don’t grow oats around here, folks.”

Buffy liked him in spite of herself. Not many people kept a sense of humor these days, and his easy smile reminded her of better times. He certainly hadn’t been spared any hardship if his eyepatch was any indication; Buffy wondered how he managed to keep laughing. 

As they passed the various low buildings, she couldn’t help but be impressed with what they’d done. In those first weeks after Giles’s death, Buffy had struggled to find shelter because building a lean-to wasn’t as instinctual as she’d first assumed. Finding materials took time and knowing how to use those materials to build a solid shelter took skill, neither of which she’d had at the time. Seeing a compound with several large structures spoke to the skills and time they had invested as a community. Things they might have taken for granted before everything collapsed such as medical supplies and tools for building or farming would have had to be scavenged or built. 

Buffy felt her respect for Angel grow. To be able to achieve the level of peace and cooperation it would have taken to get this place built and functioning, let alone maintain that peace, was no small feat. At first, she’d assumed that the residents were simply afraid of him; he was obviously powerful and had the obedience of other demons. However, the overall health and demeanor of all the humans they passed indicated that they weren’t being abused or neglected. 

When she looked at Jessie beside her, she almost laughed at the woman’s slack-jawed awe. Every time they passed a demon, Jessie clutched at her belly a little tighter and crossed herself. She’d done it so much that Buffy thought she looked like she was doing some odd version of the Macarena dance. When she did it again in front of an obvious vampire, he growled at her fiercely; Buffy grabbed her arm before she could fall flat on her behind, but couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. 

She thought about trying to reassure the woman that if the residents of this camp were going to kill them, they would have done so long before now or how they would kill the men first to take out the largest threats; a moment’s consideration changed her mind when she pictured the young woman’s face pale at Buffy’s attempt at ‘comfort’. Instead, she did what she would do for Dawn or what Joyce would have done for her. She reached out, took Jessie’s shaking hand, and gave it a comforting squeeze. When Jessie looked at her wide-eyed, Buffy simply smiled. Some of the tension eased from the other woman’s shoulders and she squeezed back with a thankful expression.

After seeing all there was to see - the ‘nickel tour’, Xander called it - he led them back to the chow hall for dinner. Despite Xander’s sarcasm regarding the food, Buffy thought she’d never tasted something so delicious. After weeks of nothing but what they could find on a trail, a hearty stew with actual meat and vegetables alongside real bread might as well have been manna from heaven. Everyone seemed to agree; even Wes with his sense of propriety and manners was eating like his stomach thought his throat had been cut. 

The only one not eating well was Dawn. The little girl pushed the food around but hardly took a bite. She still looked flushed; Buffy wondered if the day’s excitement was finally catching up with her and decided to take time to check in with her tomorrow morning after they’d had a chance to rest. 

When they’d finished eating, they followed Xander once more to get assigned their living quarters such as they were. A friendly-looking woman named Tara was in charge of figuring out who went where; she took one look at the way Dawn clung to Buffy’s side before assigning them a small tent together. Jessie was put in a larger tent with 2 other single women and Wes was assigned to a small cabin with several of the single men including Xander.

After settling Dawn into their tiny tent, Buffy slipped out into the late night - or was it early morning - air. She walked slowly around the perimeter of the group of tents until she found a warm fire to plant herself next to for a moment of peace. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; she held its fresh, icy tingle in her lungs for a moment. For the first time all day, she had a moment to herself to process everything that had happened using meditation techniques that still came with Giles’s accented instructions in her mind. 

Faces and places flashed in her mind’s eye, from Xander’s smile to Spike’s sneer to Jessie’s thankful relief. Next, she went through the smells: woodsmoke, pine sap, the sweat of their tired group, and the tantalizing scent of cooked meat and vegetables. Then came the touches: Dawn’s hand in her own, Wes squeezing her shoulder, and Jessie pulling Buffy’s hand to feel the baby kick in a slow moment on the trail. Finally, she processed all the sounds of the day; first, the birds in the trees this morning, cracking pine needles under their feet, the creak of opening gates, the crackling of firewood, Dawnie’s scream…

_Wait..._

Dawn was screaming.

“DAWN!” 

Buffy was on her feet and sprinting back towards their tent before she had even fully processed what she’d heard. Shoving people and demons alike aside, she didn’t stop until she was back in front of the tent. A few of their ‘neighbors’ were standing around the opening, but Buffy pushed by. Alone in the tent, Dawn sat in her dirty pink pajamas on her knees with arms clenched around her belly. Buffy felt her heart stop inside her chest. 

A single line of blood slid down the corner of Dawn’s mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm discovering my love of cliffhangers as an author - #sorrynotsorry
> 
> Feedback is good for the soul - let me know if you've been reading and enjoying!


	6. Achillea millefolium (Yarrow)

**_Achillea millefolium_ ** **(Yarrow)**

Buffy had allowed herself to be held back when she watched her mother die. She’d been absent when the man she considered her father died. Every night in the months since those moments, she’d dreamed of the ways she could have saved them; what she could have done. For one awful moment when she saw Dawn crouched on the ground, the memories washed over her with the bone-shattering intensity of a tidal wave. 

_Mom...Mommy, wake up! I’m here, Mom, please...just wake up now…_

_Please, you’ve got to come now! I can’t wake her up! What do I do? Yes, yes I’ll wait._

_Giles, help her! Please, let me go, I can help! Please, Giles...PLEASE!_

_Giles, I’m back! I went out to the cliff and found some...Giles? Giles, are you okay? Giles…?_

No. Not this time. Not Dawn too. 

Buffy quickly scooped the little girl into her arms, uncaring that the blood from Dawn’s mouth smeared against her shirt in her haste. Stepping back out of the tent, she honed in on the nearest person and asked, her voice brittle and desperate, “The witch...Willow! Where can I find her!” 

The woman stammered, her eyes glued to the blood dripping out of Dawn’s mouth and onto Buffy’s shirt. She took too long to answer; Buffy’s tone hardened like stone. “Stop that! Just tell me which way to go! NOW!”

The woman raised a shaking hand, eyes wide as she took in the sight of Dawn’s small, pale body; the red line down her chin stood out like a neon sign in the darkness. Without waiting for further response, Buffy took off in the direction the woman had pointed. Behind her, she thought she heard Wes calling her name but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. If she stopped, Dawn would be dead; so she’d keep running until she found the witch. 

People seemed to blur as she raced through the camp. They shouted when they jumped out of her way or when she shoved them out of the way with her shoulders, but she didn’t hear them. Her vision had narrowed into a laser focus. 

_Red hair. Red hair. Gotta find the red hair!!!_

She’d never run like this before. There were no obstacles, nothing in her way as far as her body knew. She couldn’t hear anything: not the crackle of the fires or the voices of people around her. The only sound she could make out was the faint wheeze of Dawn’s inhale and exhale and the rushing of blood in her own ears.

When a pair of arms grabbed her shoulders, she clutched Dawn tighter to her chest and tried to wrench herself free. 

_Can’tstopcan’tstopLETMEGO!_

She was too far gone in her own mind to register who or what had stopped her. 

“Oi, slow down, will you? Where’s the fire?” The hands shook her and held her fast.

In her frantic haze, Buffy almost didn’t recognize the owner of the voice. When she raised her eyes to find blonde hair and icy blue eyes, she remembered. The old man...he had helped the old man. He could help. 

“Please, where’s the witch who-?” As her mind whirled in desperation, Buffy found herself unable to finish a thought. “I need help! We need to find Willow now! My...Dawn is hurt and I don’t…” She almost melted in relief when he took one look at Dawn and let go of her arms. He turned away and started to run, yelling over his shoulder, “This way. Hurry now!” 

Buffy wasn’t sure how long it took them to reach the building with the sloppily painted red cross next to its doorframe. She was sure she’d never run that fast before, but the vampire, Spike, had still had to slow down a few times so that he wouldn’t lose her. 

He burst in the door ahead of her, bellowing, “RED! Get in here, now!”

When Buffy stepped in behind him, she caught sight of the witch scurrying in from another room. When her eyes fell from Spike and Buffy’s harried appearance to the little girl in Buffy’s arms, they widened in fear. Her whispered “Oh, goddess…!” made the tight ball of panic in Buffy’s stomach roll painfully. 

Buffy gritted her teeth and shifted Dawn in her arms. “Please...help her.” 

Her plea seemed to snap Willow out of her reverie; the other woman sprang into action, turning quickly to a shelf filled with tiny bottles. 

“Put her on one of the beds! Grab that towel and roll it up under her neck so that her airway stays open.” Willow’s tone had gone from breathy fright to calm and controlled in the space of a sentence. 

Buffy lay Dawn down carefully on the nearest cot. Somewhere on the run to find Willow, Dawn had fallen asleep or passed out; Buffy wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. She brushed Dawn’s hair from her face and tried to position her in a way that seemed like it would make breathing easier. When she didn’t know what else to try, she started to wring her hands together, watching Willow grab various bottles off the shelf with rising panic.  
Spike stood back, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. Now that they were here and the adrenaline was slowly waning, he wasn’t sure why he was still here. He’d helped; he’d gotten them to the witch quickly and now she could take the reins and help the little bit. He wondered if he should leave; he’d managed a quick hunt and had his dinner, but animal blood only sated him so much; even tinged with illness, the little girl’s blood was tempting.

Willow made the choice for him when she called over her shoulder, “Spike, can you make out her heartbeat and breathing?” 

He nodded before remembering that she wasn’t looking at him. “Uh, yeah. Breathing is slower than it should be. Shallow too. Heartbeat is too fast, like a rabbit before you bite down.” 

Both Buffy and Willow gave him looks that implied that his comparison had missed the mark, but he just shrugged. What did they want? She asked; he answered.

Buffy tensed when Willow finally finished whatever she’d been doing over by the little bottles and approached Dawn’s cot with what looked like a cup of tea. 

“Wh-what are you giving her?” There was no cure for the blood disease. Everyone knew that. Now that they were there, Buffy wasn’t even sure what she’d been expecting the witch to do; only that bringing Dawn to her was better than doing nothing. 

Willow pursed her lips, a crease forming in her eyebrows. “What I can. Everything we know about this disease says that it attacks through your blood like a virus. It can cause fevers, heart problems, internal bleeding, vomiting, and any number of other problems. I’m operating under the assumption that this ISN’T that and treating her symptoms as best I can. She’s feverish and something inside is bleeding - Yarrow tea can help those things and will also help with any pain.” 

Buffy clenched her hands at her side as she watched Willow lift Dawn’s head up and slowly pour some of the liquid into her mouth. Interminable moments seem to pass before Dawn’s throat contracted to swallow and Buffy fought the urge to snap at Willow to try something else. 

The redhead gave Dawn a few more mouthfuls of the tea before handing it over to Buffy and instructing, “Here. Sit behind her to hold her up and get her to drink as much as you can. I’ll be right back; I’m going to find Tara to help me.” 

Buffy nodded wordlessly and moved to lean the little girl back against her chest. It became a process: open Dawn’s mouth to pour in a small amount of the warm black tea; close her mouth again with one hand to keep the liquid from spilling out; tilt her head back carefully and wait for her to swallow; and finally, lower her chin and wait a moment before starting again. Over and over and over. When she poured the sip into Dawn’s mouth and watched her swallow instinctively, Buffy finally felt her heartbeat begin to slow. 

It was then that she finally noticed the vampire still in the room. He bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet in a way that clearly indicated his discomfort. He didn’t want to be there. Why was he? She’d hardly noticed him since they walked through the door with as focused as she was on the little girl, but he’d obviously stayed the whole time. 

Catching her eyes on him, he offered gruffly, “Her breathing sounds better. Still slow, but doesn’t sound like it’s taking too much out of her.”

Buffy nodded distractedly, acknowledging his words without speaking. 

“She been sick long? Didn’t smell any sickness when your lot came to Angel. ‘Course, there were a lot of you; guess we coulda missed it.”

He was desperate to fill the empty space with words. It was one thing to be involved in the action: the running and the in-the-moment activity of getting them here. It was another thing altogether to stand there, useless and still, while they waited for the witch to return. He didn’t need to do that. He should just leave. 

Buffy’s reply was quiet, as if afraid to wake the little girl. “I don’t really know. She hasn’t been with me for very long...only a few days, really. She’s complained of tummy aches a few times, but nothing...there hasn’t been anything like this.” 

Spike arched an eyebrow, thankful for conversation to fill the quiet. “Thought you birds were family the way she was glued to you back there. How’d you wind up stuck with someone’s brat?”

Buffy’s expression went from nervous and afraid to fire and brimstone in the space of a breath. “She’s not a brat or a bird or a...whatever! She was...something bad happened to her, and she was alone. I couldn’t let her be alone, so she’s with me now.” 

A glance down to the little girl softened her expression somewhat. “It’s crazy enough in this world without having to do it all alone. If anyone’s stuck with anyone, I guess she’s stuck with me now.” 

Something in his chest felt itchy as he watched her hold the little girl close. It didn’t really make sense to him, what she’d done. Sure, he got the idea of family and protecting one’s own. Vampire nests and families were often very protective of each other, and family was chosen just like this woman had seemed to choose the child, but it still felt odd. Vampires were sired because of their potential for violence or to fill a need. There was always something ‘in it’ for both sides. The blonde woman wasn’t going to get anything good for having taken on the child. In fact, it probably hurt her chances of survival. 

Spike would admit to himself his unique propensity for love and his desire for it - took pride in it, in fact. But he was still a selfish demon and her actions confused him. In fact, he was sure that most humans wouldn’t be doing what she’d done. Oh, they liked to talk about empathy and love and all that all-for-one-one-for-all rot, especially before the whole world went to hell; but the rules were different now. The humans in the camp were as self-serving as any demon, which suited him fine. Easier to know your opponent if motives were clear. 

He thought of Dru for a moment and thought maybe he understood where the woman was coming from after all. When the humans had started dying off en masse, Dru had lost what little sanity she’d ever had. Apparently the pixies and Miss Edith hadn’t liked all the little Happy Meals falling over dead before they could be eaten or turned and it drove Dru madder than a hatter. Spike had tried to get her to leave their hideout du jour and escape somewhere where things weren’t so tits up and people weren’t setting things on fire for the hell of it, but she’d dug her heels in and refused. He’d tried everything - bribery, beatings, temptation, placation; he’d done it all. Nothing he’d done or said could convince her to leave their home. She’d spent the last days of her unlife spinning in circles, whimpering bastardized nursery rhymes about: “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t mop up the spilled milk again”. 

From a demon’s point of view, he should have left her. Shouldn’t have risked the danger of staying around so many humans when the world was burning. He never would have though. Would have stayed with her till they starved or dusted or he was finally able to convince her to leave. Would have done the fool thing and risked his unlife in any way he had to in order to get her to understand they couldn’t stay. But she’d taken that choice from him. 

Spike shook the thoughts away. No use going down that rabbit hole. He looked down at the two girls on the cot, realizing that the blonde was back to ignoring him. Just as well, he really should go. Except he didn’t. His mouth kept right on going for some reason when even HE knew that it shouldn’t. 

“So...wha’s your name, pet?” Why the bleedin’ hell had he asked that? He didn’t give a damn what her name was. 

The woman gave him an incredulous look; nice to have that affirmation that he really was losing his marbles. 

“Uhm...Buffy. I’m Buffy Summers and this is Dawn.” Her tone was skeptical and she eyed him carefully. 

He didn’t try to stop the snort from coming out of his mouth. “Really? The fuck is that short for?” 

“Short-woman-who-stakes-annoying-vampires. Buffy had a better ring, I thought. Besides, don’t you go by Spike? Overcompensating much?” 

He grinned, enjoying the heated glare she was shooting at him. Never let it be said that he didn’t appreciate a woman with fire. Curling his tongue behind his teeth, he ran a hand suggestively down his chest. “Who said it’s overcompensating, luv? Can’t help it if I got a bit of a reputation, can I?” 

Buffy rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat, readjusting Dawn’s position against her. “If you say so. If you gotta brag about it - “

Whatever she’d been about to say got cut off by Tara and Willow entering the room. They came in quickly, both giving Spike a questioning look before focusing on Buffy and Dawn. 

“Hello again, Buffy. How’s she doing?” Buffy liked the blonde witch; she had a calm voice and easy smile that reminded her of Joyce. 

“She seems to be doing better. I got her...she drank all the tea that Willow left for her. Spike said her breathing sounds better, too.” 

Tara nodded, holding Dawn’s wrist in her hand to check her pulse. When she was satisfied, she glanced at Willow before turning back to Buffy. 

“We’re not doctors, Buffy, but we’ve seen a lot since we started here. I don’t know how many people you’ve known with the blood plague, but it’s usually pretty predictable. It’s fast, ugly, and people die pretty quickly.” 

Buffy frowned and held Dawn a little tighter. “What are you saying?”

The witches looked at each other again before Willow answered. “What she’s saying is that we’re not really sure how to help Dawn right now past what I’ve already done. If it is the blood plague, by rights she shouldn’t be getting any better. But she is. Her pulse is evening out, her breathing is getting better, and her fever is breaking. So it probably isn’t lethal, whatever it is, but I don’t know what IT is. Has she had any problems like this before?” 

Buffy shook her head absently, processing what Willow had said. “No...I don’t know. Like I told...she’s had tummy aches a few times, but I don’t really know if there was anything else. We haven’t been traveling together for long.” 

Tara took one of Buffy’s hands, giving it a comforting squeeze. “It’s all right. We’ll still do what we can. I’d like to read her aura if that’s all right with you? Sometimes a person’s aura can give us clues towards what’s wrong with them or show an illness. It couldn’t hurt.”

Even knowing about the existence of magic and demons in the world, Buffy had never put much stock in witchcraft. She believed in the physical - the weapon in her hand and the enemy in front of her. Witchcraft was often too abstract for her; however, it was something to try. 

Spike spoke up suddenly from next to her. “Red, Glinda, if that’s all, I’m going to head back out. Not doing much good standing about here.” 

The witches nodded and Spike turned to leave. Buffy’s voice stopped him halfway to the door. “Spike...Thank you.” 

Without turning around, he nodded and replied gruffly, “Hope the little one gets better.” 

With that, he walked out the door. 

When he’d gone, Tara turned to Buffy. “Buffy...before I look at Dawn. I need to ask your forgiveness.”

Tearing her eyes from the door, Buffy looked at Tara warily. “Why?”

Tara looked embarrassed for a moment, a small stutter coming out in her speech. “W-when we get new arrivals, Angel always asks m-me to do a read on them, just in case. Y-you just don’t know if s-someone is lying, and it doesn’t hurt anyone.” 

“Oh...that makes sense, I guess. Why are you telling me now? Did you see something from Dawn before?”

Tara looked from Buffy to Willow and back again. She took a slow, deep breath before answering. “Not Dawn, Buffy. You. Did you...do you know what you are?”

Buffy felt her heart begin to race, the blood pounding in her ears. “Uhm...human...girl...legal adult. These are all true, right?”

“Buffy, you’re a potential slayer. Do you know what that means?” Tara looked almost afraid to ask the question. 

Relief flooded through her body. “Oh! Yeah. I’ve known that since I was 15. Wait, you can SEE that in my aura or whatever?”

Both witches regarded her with shock. For a moment, neither said anything and Buffy was beginning to feel self-conscious. It felt like having a booger hanging out of your nose, except all of you was the booger. 

It was Willow who finally broke the silence. “Well, that’s just...we just wanted to be sure that you knew. Wouldn’t want you to wake up a superhero one morning and be all, ‘Hey, who spiked my Wheaties’, you know?” 

Buffy didn’t understand their worry. So she was a potential? So what? She was also 18 and pretty old to be called even if the current slayer kicked it. As far as she was concerned, being a potential just gave her a bit of a leg up in this new world as far as survival training and combat. She didn’t get the super strength, agility, or any of the other cool things that would come with being ‘Chosen’ with a capital C. 

“Oh...well, thanks, I guess. But yeah, not so much with the surprise here. Can...will you look at Dawn now and see what’s going on?” Buffy was very ready to move the focus off of her. 

Tara nodded so quickly that she reminded Buffy of one of those bobblehead toys.

“Sure, let’s do that. J-just give me a minute to f-focus and we’ll see what we see.” Tara’s smile was meant to be reassuring, but it left Buffy with a small ball of unease somewhere in her chest. 

None of the women noticed the movement outside the window. Of course they didn’t; he’d been quiet and still since the moment he stepped out the door. When the blonde witch had mentioned her practice of reading the auras of newcomers, Spike had been interested in what she might have to say about these particular newcomers. And oh, what interesting things she had to say; a baby slayer right here in their camp. As Spike walked slowly away from the clinic building, he couldn’t help the shifting bones and fangy grin that split his face. 

  
_Well now...in’t this neat?_

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buffy woke to the sound of people talking outside the window and the feel of the morning’s sunlight warming her back. She straightened up and stretched, having fallen asleep bent over Dawn’s cot. She looked closely at Dawn, trying to discern any change in the little girl. She’d hoped that Dawn might wake up by morning, but the dark bruising color around the girl’s eyes and the smear of old blood on her lips made Buffy reconsider. Sleep might be the most merciful thing for her after all. But it didn’t matter; she was alive. She’d lived through the night and was still breathing. 

There was no sign of the witches around, so Buffy took a moment to look around. The room seemed much larger in the sunlight, and with a start, Buffy realized that they’d had another patient all along. Across the room, the old man from the night before was sitting quietly in his cot. When he noticed her gaze, he gave her a warm smile. 

“Well good morning, young lady. Sleep well?”

Buffy yawned; then gave a wry smile. “Oh, yeah! Best hotel around, right?” 

The man laughed, then broke into a raspy cough. Buffy frowned and got up, but he held up a hand to stop her. 

“Don’t mind me, young’n. My old lungs don’t take to the morning air the way they used to.”

She sat down again slowly, pausing to straighten Dawn’s covers. She glanced over to him again before commenting, “You look like you’re feeling a lot better than you did last night.” 

“You’re darn tootin’ I do. Damndest thing I ever seen, and it happened to me! That blasted snake shoulda been the end of me, but today I feel like a new man. Just waitin’ on the red witch to give me the go-ahead and I’ll be back to makin’ mischief!” His brown eyes twinkled as he spoke and Buffy found herself smiling at him in spite of herself. 

As if summoned by the old man’s words, Willow walked through the door. She smiled at Buffy then scolded the old man good-naturedly. “Mr. Green, I thought I told you to rest till I came back? Showing off for the new folks isn’t resting!” 

The old man grinned boyishly, “Well now, Miss Willow, can’t hardly help it if you left me such nice company, can I? But don’t worry, no matter what pretty faces show up, I’ll always have space on my dance card for you.”

Willow laughed brightly. “You know, I’d warn you against dancing after an ordeal like yours, but it seems you’ve got one very diligent guardian angel. If you’re feeling all right this morning, I can’t see any reason to keep you.” 

Buffy couldn’t hold back her curiosity. “What do you think happened? That bite looked pretty serious when they brought him in last night.”

Willow’s smile faltered, but she gave a nonchalant shrug. “My guess? It wasn’t a poisonous snake and Mr. Green just wanted the pleasure of our company.” 

The answer was carefully given to show a facade of ease and brightness, but Buffy saw through it. The tightness around Willow’s eyes and the nervous clench of her hands gave her away. 

Willow helped the old man to his feet and shooed him out the door with instructions to rest and stay out of trouble for as long as possible. When he’d gone, she turned back to Buffy with that too-bright smile. 

“Did you get any sleep? I’ve got some breakfast if you’d like some. Most important meal of the day and everything!” 

Buffy thought about trying to fake a smile back, but found she didn’t have the energy or motivation to pretend that she was any less than exhausted. 

“Yeah, I slept. Not a lot though; I kept waking up to check on her. And sure - breakfast sounds good, thanks.” There, manners were good. She could do manners.

Willow brought a small plate with a slice of bread and some wild strawberries to Dawn’s bedside. “Here you go; can’t beat local and organic, right?” 

Instead of trying to placate Willow with small talk, Buffy chose to look back towards Dawn and ask, “When do you think she’ll wake up?”

The redhead frowned at the redirection, but recovered and replied, “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to be in any pain, and she’s not doing any worse, so we have to assume her body is trying to beat whatever this is. Our bodies can do pretty amazing things when we let them, and sleep is one of the main ways our bodies restore themselves. 

Buffy nodded absently as though she’d known all of that. She stroked the back of the little girl’s hand as she ate her breakfast. It was methodical; hand to plate, hand to mouth, chew, swallow, and repeat. Buffy liked methodical. There was no room for misinterpretation or people’s motives to question. People were so much more tricky than the simple action of eating, or fighting, or hunting. People too easily said one thing but meant another, as evidenced by the witch currently puttering about the room; her words bright but her body tense. 

Buffy tried not to think too much about their conversation the night before. After the witches’ hesitant questions about her status as a potential, Tara had finally turned to Dawn. After a few moments of concentration with her hand against the little girl’s cheek, she’d sat back with furrowed eyebrows. 

When Buffy had asked her what was wrong, Tara had offered her a small smile before saying that she thought Dawn would be fine. That there was something different about the little girl, but nothing about her aura was fading as people’s often did when ill or dying. She wouldn’t elaborate on what the “different” was and soon begged off to go to bed. Though they hadn’t said anything in front of her, Buffy could tell that something had passed between the two witches because Willow had been playing the ‘look I’m happy, don’t you see me being happy?’ game every time Buffy had seen her since. It had gotten old quickly. 

She passed the day at Dawn’s side resting and reading to her. When Wes had come by in the mid-morning, she’d asked him to retrieve her trusty guide book to help pass the time. Unsure if Dawn could hear her in her sleep, Buffy decided to pretend that she could. Hour after hour was spent reading the names, descriptions, and uses for the various plants to be found in the Northwest. Occasionally she’d stop to tell a funny story about her interactions with the plants, including one about sneaking some wild chokecherries out from underneath a nearby bear family. 

Before she knew it, the sun was beginning to set again. Dawn had slept the whole day, no better and no worse. She’d shown no signs of waking, so it came as a great surprise when Buffy had laid her head down for a short nap only to wake to Willow’s sharp intake of breath. Jerking her head to look at Dawn, she took in the sight of the little girl lying quietly in bed, eyes wide open. Buffy jumped up from her chair next to the bed and grabbed Dawn’s hand.

“Dawn? Dawnie, can you hear me?” Buffy ran her free hand over Dawn’s hair, waiting for the child’s eyes to slowly focus on her. 

Her voice was quiet and weak when she answered, “Yeah. Buffy, where am I?”

Buffy swallowed hard and squeezed Dawn’s hand, pointing back at Willow behind her. “We’re in the clinic, Dawnie. You...you got sick last night, so I brought you to Willow. You’ve been sleeping all day. How do you feel?”

Dawn frowned before rubbing her belly. “I’m hungry. I remember my tummy hurting, but it feels okay now. Could I have some water?”

Willow rushed up beside them, a small glass in her hand. “Here you go, sweetie. Try not to drink too fast, we don’t want to make your tummy hurt again if you drink too fast.” 

The next few minutes were spent offering Dawn food and water and watching her like a hawk while she ate. After the chaos of the previous night, Buffy was having a hard time accepting that Dawn could just be sitting there completely fine, eating strawberries. 

Tara’s lack of answer about what she had seen in Dawn still worried her; the evidence was starting to stack up that something was not right with the girl, but Buffy didn’t even know the right questions to ask to begin to find answers. For a brief moment, the hardened part of her heart wondered if she should go; just leave the girl in capable hands and leave. The pain from the previous night was still fresh, and Buffy wasn’t in any hurry to keep reliving it if something like it happened again. 

Her months on her own had left her selfish and defensive; her time at Redding and traveling with the caravan hadn’t helped. The decision to bring Dawn with her had been an emotional one, and right at the moment, those same emotions were telling her that she’d be safer if she just walked out of the camp and didn’t come back. Dawn would be fine. Wes would care for her, or Jessie. Dawn didn’t actually need her; in fact, it would be better for the little girl in the long run if Buffy left her now. Nothing good came from people being too close to her, and something hard inside her knew that if she stayed, something more awful would happen and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. 

Dawn’s hand reaching out for her broke Buffy out of her thoughts. With only a slight hesitation, she scooted to the edge of Dawn’s cot and wrapped her arms around the girl. A bit of the hardness inside faded, replaced with warmth and the instinct to protect. As if somehow reading her mind, Dawn looked up at her with sleepy eyes and smiled. As she snuggled into Buffy’s arms, she whispered, “I’m glad you found me, Buffy. Will you be here when I wake up again?” 

Buffy swallowed hard, fighting the instinct to deflect and give a half answer. She’d made her choice back at the campsite. For better or worse, “Yeah, Dawn. I’ll be here.” 

That seemed to be all the girl needed to hear; she was asleep within minutes, chest rising and falling steadily against Buffy’s side. She was idly twirling a piece of Dawn’s hair when Wes and Xander came into the clinic. Wes’s fists were clenched at his sides and he glared unrepentantly at the other man. Xander, for his part, seemed to be ignoring Wes and simply gave Buffy one of his easy smiles. 

“Hey there, Buffy. How’s she doing? Any change?”

Buffy regarded him with suspicion, eyes bouncing back and forth between the men. “Yeah...she woke up for a little while and said she was feeling better. What’s going on?”

Before Xander could answer, Wes cut in sharply, “It seems there were some questions and concerns about Dawn and yourself raised to some of the community leaders. I’ve made it clear to both Mr. Harris and Angel that there is no reason for concern, but it seems they still feel the need to make a spectacle for people with nothing better to occupy themselves with than gossip.”

Xander interrupted, holding a hand out in front of him in defense. “Now hold on, it isn’t like that. Nobody’s on trial or anything, Angel just needs to do his job as head man and discuss the concerns that have been brought to him.”

“What...what concerns?” Buffy’s voice sounded weak even to herself. 

Xander rubbed a hand down his face, his shoulders slumped. “Look, you scared some people last night. People who saw Dawn bleeding and have lost people to the blood sickness. You running like a bat outta hell got everyone’s attention; after that, a few people from your traveling party started talking about how Dawn came to be traveling with you,” he paused to give Wes a pointed, hard look, “and the concerns that people had raised at the time. Add that to the hysteria and rumors of a new strain of the disease going around and you get one mammoth-sized bunch of group panic. A few people went to Angel, and he’s asked to see you and talk about it.”

Wes stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m coming with you, Buffy. We won’t let them-”

“No,” Buffy cut him off, her head starting to spin, “someone has to stay with Dawn. You stay here and watch out for her. I’ll...I’ll go talk to Angel, I guess.” 

“Buffy, Dawn will be fine if you want him to come with you.” Xander tried to reassure her. All he managed to do was make her angry. 

Her head cleared in an instant and she gritted her teeth to stop herself from lashing out at him. Instead, she fixed him with a cold glare and ground out, “I don’t know that, do I? Apparently a little girl is so terrifying that I’m having to go face a mob to answer for her being sick like it’s something she chose to do. I don’t know you; for all I know, you’re part of all this. So no, I won’t leave her here alone like others tried to do.” 

She stood and motioned for Wes to take her place beside Dawn’s bed. Satisfied that Dawn would have someone trustworthy nearby, she stomped past Xander to the door. 

Over her shoulder, she snarked, “Well c’mon, then. Wouldn’t want to keep the good people and their pitchforks waiting, would we?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is lovely - thanks to those who've left kudos. Let me know what you're thinking so far!


	7. Salvia Officinalis (Sage)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Ain't mine. Unless it is. But mostly it isn't.

**_Salvia Officinalis (_ ** **Sage)**

  
He woke with a start. In the seconds that it took for his mind to register his surroundings, he became painfully aware that he was not, in fact, home safe as his dream had suggested. Cold metal shackles held his wrists high above him and he could feel congealed blood at the corners of his mouth and nose. His legs lay limp and useless beneath him on the floor; he was certain one was broken at least. A single candle flickered with light in the large, open room; the way it danced back and forth the only evidence of moving air of any kind.

His mind raced, full of memories from before his merciful bout of unconsciousness. Yellow eyes glowing in the darkness; a smile framed by red lips and sharp fangs; a flash of long, bright hair before the pain began. The feel of cold metal piercing his body, offset by white-hot heat from the fire...the brand, maybe? Did it really matter? His vocal cords had surrendered long ago, now refusing to give him even the release of a scream. He could only produce low groans; the one coming from his throat now resembling a dying animal. 

The sound of a door creaking open caused him to tense his overtaxed muscles as he hung limply from the chains. The action reopened the barely scabbed over wounds on his wrists, as the shackles bit into his flesh. He didn’t even notice; too focused on the ominous click of shoes against the stone floor in front of him. He wanted to pray for death; gods knew he had his options to choose from. But no one had listened so far; demons and gods alike had abandoned him to this hell where the torture continued without end. Fitting, he supposed, for his part in the annihilation of the world. 

When she knelt before him and lifted his chin to face her, he found that he couldn’t look away from the golden gaze in front of him. Ruby red lips parted into a sultry smile as she stroked his bloody cheek. 

“Hello, Darling. What shall we talk about today?” 

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

  
The sounds coming from the longhouse reminded Buffy of a swarm of bees. The noise rose and fell, all the voices inside rumbling together so that it was impossible to pick out any individual voice. It seemed that Angel’s request to ‘talk’ with her had actually meant “let’s let everyone practice for their angry mob audition”. 

It occurred to her that movies got it wrong. Walking into a room full of people who were very obviously there for you wasn’t heroic. It wasn’t possible to just hold your head up high and ignore them. The glares and comments didn’t run together, easy to be dismissed. No, every word and glare hit its mark. The weight of everyone’s fear and anger was so heavy that Buffy thought her knees would buckle. After spending so much time avoiding others and their opinions, her body almost couldn’t bear the incredible press of their hostility. She could see that fear had spread like wildfire and people she didn’t even know were looking at her as if she’d walked in covered in blood. 

When she was finally able to look up towards the front of the room, the first thing she saw was Angel. Just like the night before, he was seated in his chair on the platform. This time, however, his calm, disinterested demeanor was gone. Instead, he sat forward with his arms resting on his knees. While everyone else’s attention seemed split between her entrance and the various displays of aggression, Angel’s dark eyes never wavered from her from the moment she walked in the door until she reached the front. It rattled her, but she found that she couldn’t look away. 

With Xander behind her, Buffy was able to make it to the front without trouble. As she came to stand before him, Buffy was surprised when Angel stood suddenly. Without him needing to say a single word, the raucous shouts quieted. He glanced over the crowd quickly but with the impression of meeting every gaze. 

“All right. You’ve come and made your concerns clear. Now choose your speakers and get out. We’ll settle things, but not by turning it into a witch hunt.” 

For a few moments after that, she was completely ignored as the various groups huddled and chose who would stay behind. Within five minutes, the building was mostly empty again; at least, compared to how it had been. From the hundred or more people stuffed inside before, only 15 were left. Five humans, eight demons of various species, and two vampires remained behind. Of the humans, Buffy recognized one of the men as one who had been in her traveling party and present when they’d found Dawn. Aside from Xander, none of the others were familiar to her. 

Buffy stood front and center; chin up, mouth set in a firm line. She might be one against the wolves, but she’d be damned before letting them see her fear. Giles’s voice echoed in her mind from a training session long ago. 

_Hold your ground until you’ve seen their weakness. Hide your own. Wait until your strike works at your advantage, and for God’s sake, use the resources around you._

When he’d actually said the words, Buffy still lived in a world with hairdryers and hadn’t yet experienced a world where his advice had been needed. She hadn’t understood the wisdom he’d given so freely in their training. She did now. Now she stored every word she could remember for future use in moments like this. 

With a deep, centering breath, she took in the faces of those around her. The humans were a typical mix - angry and afraid. The demons seemed wary and unsure. The vampires just looked bored. Great! Bored psychopaths, uninvolved demons, and a would-be lynch mob were in charge of discussing their fate. Just great! 

Angel cleared his throat and settled back in his chair. For the first time, Buffy noticed Spike settled in the corner behind Angel again, looking as bored as his counterparts. Angel brought his gaze back to Buffy and again, she couldn’t look away. 

“You’ve been the topic of quite a lot of conversation tonight, Buffy.” The mocking tone he’d used with Wes the previous night was back. 

Buffy couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “You don’t say? Here I thought I was voted in as Homecoming Queen. Almost wore the dress and everything.” 

From his corner, she saw Spike smirk; Angel was not so amused. His eyes hardened and she wondered if he’d growl at her like he had Spike. 

“I’m glad you’re able to joke about it. Not sure I’d feel so comfortable with people calling for my blood.”

She met his cold look with one of her own. “What do you want from me?”

He gestured toward those gathered behind her. “Here at the U.S., we hear out anyone who has concerns about the community; as a leader, it’s my job to listen to those concerns and to make sure that people are safe. A...few of our residents have some concerns about the little girl traveling with you. Seems like you had quite a night yesterday. Willow tells me the girl is doing all right now, but that wasn’t the case last night. She was showing symptoms very similar to the blood plague, right?” 

“Yeah...but it obviously wasn’t. She’s better now. I don’t know about you, but the people I knew who got sick with that didn’t get better.”

Angel shrugged, “You’re right. Which is concerning by itself. It makes people wonder if the rumors of a new strain are true, which would mean that everyone who thought they were immune because they were still alive might be vulnerable after all. It makes them nervous to be around anyone they might associate with it. It makes our demon residents nervous because if there is a new strain, who’s to say, it won’t spread to them next? It makes the vampires nervous because most of our... the world’s supply of human blood is already gone. They don’t wanna lose what’s left. All that to say, that little girl is concerning to a lot of people.” 

Thoughts flew through Buffy’s mind at light speed, but all she could force out of her mouth was, “She’s...she’s just a kid.”

One of the men, the one from their traveling party, stepped forward and spoke, his words biting. “And a forest fire starts with one match. We told you back at that campsite; there is something wrong with that kid. If you woulda listened to us then, we wouldn’t be in this mess. If my family dies because you hadta go and play—”

“Enough!” He hadn’t even had to raise his voice. Angel’s face shifted and he snarled at the man through a mouth full of sharp fangs, his tone low and deadly. He stood; his large frame more intimidating when accented by yellow eyes and bared teeth. The man shrank back with a gasp and allowed his companions to yank him back into line. 

Buffy found his face striking in its feral state. During her potential training, she’d never had to fight actual vampires. In the time since her only interactions with them had been in battle; hardly the time to stop and admire the scenery. Not that she was admiring - she so was not. But she couldn’t help the comparisons she found herself making between the demon and the man’s face. She wondered which he felt more comfortable in, then realized that he might not appreciate those kinds of thoughts when he was trying to scare people. 

Angel’s voice broke her out of her train of thought, still low and menacing. “You had your chance to talk. Now it’s hers. I’m the master here and you’ll do this my way, or you won’t do it at all. Understand?” His lip curled at the last word, the smile the predator gives before devouring the prey. 

The man didn’t answer; the floor suddenly became of intense interest and he was silent. Angel looked back at Buffy, his features shifting again. Buffy was surprised at the small smile he gave her before motioning her to continue. 

Somehow, she made her voice sound strong and clear. “Look, I don’t know what happened last night. She was fine and then she wasn’t, and now she’s fine again. I don’t have an answer for that. But it’s not worth all this panic! I’ve been with her this whole time and I’m fine. No one else who’s been around her is sick. She’s not dangerous.” She paused, her voice beginning to crack. After a moment, she cleared her throat and began again. “Like I said, she’s just a kid. I know people worry for their families, but I won’t let them hurt her because they’re afraid for nothing.” 

When she’d finished, she heard quiet conversations break out among the groups present. Angel regarded her with a look of intense interest; the first time she’d seen him look remotely interested in anything, in fact. It was unnerving. 

After a few minutes of letting the groups converse, Angel called them back together. “Thoughts?”

One of the demons, a male with spines coming out of his face and red eyes, stepped forward first. “We understand the desire to protect the girl. Many of us are parents, and we are not unfeeling towards the woman for her instinct to protect a youngling. However, the Brachen, Kwaini, Loose-skinned, and Lister clans must look to their own younglings first. We have no way of knowing if her sickness will spread, and we cannot risk our own by letting her roam free. There are other camps in other places. Let her go there for sanctuary.”

Buffy felt frozen, her limbs refusing to respond even though the urge to rage was clawing at her insides like a hellcat. So, she stood still and waited for the next hit. 

Next, one of the vampires came forward, tossing her a wary look. “Far as we’re concerned, one kid is the same as the next. Don’t know what’s making her sick, but we do know what’ll happen if the humans catch it and die. Can’t risk the chance of being stuck on beast-blood forever if we don’t have to. Let her leave.” 

Angel’s eyes had yet to leave her. He seemed to be watching for her reactions, silent as the others made their statements. 

One of the human men stepped up. Buffy had never seen him before, but somehow his word would partly decide Dawn’s fate. 

The man shifted uncomfortably in place. “The way we see it, the risks outweigh everything else. Nobody wants to hurt the girl, but her being here presents a potential danger to us and our families. These were concerns that were voiced when she was found, and the Brit wouldn’t hear ‘em. Now we have proof that there’s something wrong with the kid and a whole lot more people are at risk.” He took a momentary breath to toss a dirty look towards Buffy, but it was gone before he looked back towards Angel. “We can’t afford to ignore danger because it comes with a pretty face or a young body.” 

Buffy was a breath away from letting him have it with both barrels when Angel cleared his throat, drawing her gaze, and shook his head subtly.

He was quiet for a moment before leaning forward in his seat to speak. “I hear your concerns. You’re right that our priorities are the safety of our people and that ignoring the possibility of a new strain isn’t wise. We can’t do nothing. However, I don’t like how quickly you allowed panic to set in with no evidence.” The pointed looks he gave each of the spokesmen caused them to duck their heads or avert their eyes for a moment. “We don’t run kangaroo courts, and I’m not heading up the next Salem. So, what are some alternatives? I don’t accept that the best we can do is the banishment of a resident. Certainly not how we’ve operated in the past, is it Clay? Scylla?” The sly smirk on Angel’s face and the clearly embarrassed looks on the faces of one of the Kwaini demons and a human left little question that some sort of exception had been made for them in the past. 

A new voice broke the tension, “What about...you could put her in quarantine to see if it happens again?” 

Buffy didn’t know when Willow had entered; Tara stood silently behind her. The witches stepped forward with clasped hands; the smell of burnt sage followed them as they made their way to the front. 

“What do you mean by a quarantine?” Buffy was glad Angel asked the question because her brain was so overwhelmed that she wasn’t following along. 

Tara answered this time, eyes dancing back and forth between her partner and the vampire. “Well, w-we were talking about Dawn’s symptoms. The sudden pain and the b-bleeding look like the plague, but nothing else has m-matched.”

Willow nodded and took over for her companion. “She’s right. No lesions, no heart attack or seizures, and no signs of organ failure. At least one of those was always present in the cases we know of and there are no records of anyone just mysteriously getting better. No one got better at all. So, we don’t know what it is, but medically speaking, we can’t say that it’s a new strain of the plague. We’ve been giving her herbs and teas for the symptoms, and she’s responding to it. In fact, she seemed to really like when we did a Native American healing ritual with sage that—” She stopped for a moment, a blush rising when she realized that she’d begun to babble. 

Willow took a deep breath then continued. “That’s why we suggest a quarantine. Let her stay somewhere away from everyone else for a while and see what happens. If it is a new strain, two weeks should be enough to see proof and other symptoms. If it’s not, then we didn’t kick out a defenseless child for nothing.” 

One of the men jumped in, “Where would she be? Sure as hell ain’t stayin’ in our part of camp. Those tents wouldn’t be enough to make folks feel safe. Can’t keep her in the clinic either; people won’t come for help if they know she’s there.” 

The demon spokesman agreed, “The human is right; she cannot stay among our kind. Our people are too afraid right now; but if such a place could be found, we would agree.” 

Angel seemed to be considering their suggestion. He looked intently at Buffy, asking “What do you think? You’d be in charge of her; you might be quarantined yourself.” 

What did she think? That was a great question - Buffy’s train of thought had derailed sometime back and she was still desperately trying to catch back up. This wasn’t a choice she wanted to make. It occurred for one stark moment that this was her chance to leave. Remembering her thoughts from earlier, she knew that if she wanted to walk away, this was her chance. They weren’t going to toss Dawn out; they could find her a safe place to quarantine and then they’d let her out when it turned out she was fine after all. Buffy could be gone. Gone from decisions that someone like Giles or her mother or even Wesley should be making, not an eighteen-year-old who had a hard enough time making choices for herself. But…

_“Dawnie, I know this is scary. You know I’m gonna stick with you though, right? You know I won’t leave you alone?”_

_“Pinky swear?”_

_“Pinky swear, Kiddo.”_

Buffy swallowed around the lump in her throat, decision made. “I’ll do it. I’ll stay with her.” 

Angel nodded, his brows furrowing in thought. “All right, so we’re all agreed that the girl will be placed in quarantine under watch. I suggest it be for about two weeks unless the situation changes or the witches have a different recommendation. At the end of the two weeks, we’ll convene again and make a final decision. Now we just have to figure out where to put you.” 

The room was quiet for a moment, no one wanting to be the one to offer a space for the two. 

“I’ll take ‘em.” 

Every head in the room snapped up at the sound of his voice from the corner. Not bothering to even straighten up, Spike shrugged as he leaned against the wall. “Got the room, don’t I? And vamps don’t get the plague if that’s what it is. Makes sense.” 

Buffy opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, got out half a syllable, and closed it again. 

It was one of the vampires who finally got the first response out. “The hell you gonna do that for, Spike?” His offer seemed to have scandalized his peers, and they all regarded him with puzzled expressions.

Spike was the very picture of indifference, his arms crossed lightly as he leaned against the wall. Anyone watching would have thought he’d just offered to do something as interesting as watch paint dry. 

“Needs done, don’t it? Folks don’t want to risk their families. This way they don’t have to. I have one of the original cabins, if you’ll recall. In exchange for agreeing to deal with His Royal Forehead as his second in command as I remember it.” The other vampires looked away quickly while Angel only glared. 

“And you’d do this...what? Out of the kindness of your heart and lack-of-soul?” Angel’s tone had taken on the particular teasing lilt that only seemed to come out with Spike. 

Spike’s mouth twitched in a sly grin and blue eyes met green across the room. “‘Course not, mate. We’ll have to make a trade, won’t we?” 

_Oh,_ ** _hell_** _no!_ Buffy’s thoughts finally caught up with the conversation; she met Spike’s grin with bared teeth. She stepped forward until she was against Angel’s platform. 

“Wait a minute! you’re not seriously considering this? I’m not living with a vampire! There’s got to be somewhere else!”

Angel looked visibly uncomfortable. Instead of answering her, he spoke to those behind her. “Final consensus: are you satisfied for now if a place can be found that doesn’t require the girl to stay in your communities for a time of quarantine?” 

After a few moments of tense discussion between the various groups, one by one they turned back to him and nodded. 

Angel rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. “Fine. We leave it there then. Ms. Summers will stay here until we can come to an agreement about where to put them, but you’ll have the details by morning.” He raised a hand in a dismissive wave, and everyone filed out without another word. 

Buffy barely held her rage in check. She grit her teeth and clenched her fists at her sides as she waited for the last person to exit, leaving only herself and the two vampires behind. 

When the door finally closed, she was ready. 

“There has to be somewhere else. I’ll agree to the quarantine even though I think it’s stupid, but I should have some say in where we go. In what world is sticking two humans, one a defenseless child, in a home with a vampire a good idea??” 

Spike snorted, pushing off the wall and coming to stand at the front with her. “Helped you when she was hurt, didn’t I? Didn’t have to do that.” 

Angel was ignoring her again, choosing instead to fix the other vampire with a hard, suspicious look. “No, you didn’t. And you didn’t need to make this offer either. What’s in it for you, Spike? What do you want for it?” 

What indeed. Spike would freely admit that when it came to elaborate, grand plans, history wasn’t exactly on his side. He was too impatient for a long con. He did, however, manage to come up with some fantastic, spur of the moment, genius ideas (even if he did say so himself). This was one of those moments. As he stood against the wall listening to the people and demons bicker over one little girl, Spike had had a doozy of an idea. 

He wasn’t surprised that she was resisting. No self-respecting lamb made a home in a wolf’s den; though, to be fair, the woman in front of him was hardly a lamb. One turn of helpfulness wasn’t enough to make her trust him. No matter, he knew how to use those warm fuzzy feelings she held for the child. And if he managed to mess with King Forehead’s hero complex in the process? Well, all the better!

“Only a fair trade. Mostly looking out for that greater good you love to prattle on about. Nobody wants the possibility of booting a poor, innocent child out into the cold on their lily-white consciences, but they’re not gonna have her nearby until they’re sure she’s not a time bomb waitin’ to go off—”

Buffy started to interrupt, “Hey, she’s not a—”

Spike shot her a glare and continued. “And they’re not wrong. So, _logically_ , you need a place out of the way enough to appease the mob but near enough to keep an eye out on the brat. My home is away from the rest of the vamps what with my delicate sensibilities when it comes to idiots. Although... come to think of it, you live out that way too, don’t you, Angelus? Could always shack them up with you, I suppose. Might have to make some room and wipe some of the brooding marks off the furniture, but I’ll bet they’d be just safe as houses with you and that shiny soul. Certainly a better plan than putting them up with a soulless demon like myself, now that you mention it.” 

Buffy watched him with rising trepidation. She couldn’t figure the reason for his sudden change of direction. And sure, now that he’d brought it up, if she had to live with a vampire, one with a soul was probably the safer bet. But...she couldn’t shake the unnerved feeling that welled up every time she was around the larger vampire. While Spike seemed to change moods on a dime, at least they were transparent. Angel had so far revealed two moods: calm and angry. Everything else seemed to be in tight reign. Those kinds of people worried her; you never knew where you stood or what to expect. The idea of living with that made her visibly shiver. 

Spike glanced away from Angel for a moment. He caught Buffy’s involuntary shiver and held in a smile. Good. Let her shift from thinking that living with a vampire was unacceptable to the idea that living with Angel was unacceptable instead. When he looked back at the other vampire, it became impossible to hold back a grin. If the vaguely ill look on his face was anything to go by, poor Angel was having an attack of the guilts. He might be the big man in charge, but Spike was confident in his knowledge of Angel’s weaknesses. That soul he wore like a scarlet letter might make the humans feel more at ease about living under a vampire’s rule, but Spike knew better. Angel was as much a fluffy puppy as Spike was a priest. 

He knew the older vampire lived in constant fear of losing control of his demon. Living with two humans with warm skin and pumping blood, and young women besides? Ol’ Angelus had a type no matter which of his personalities was in charge. It’d be impossible for him to resist; so, he’d never put himself in that position in the first place. He’d put them anywhere else he could, even if it meant with Spike.

He watched their faces betray that their minds were doing most of the work for him. Just a little more wood on the fire…

“Another thing to consider is that wherever you put ‘em, they’ll need extra muscle. You know that some fool’s gonna get it in his head that the girl’s dangerous no matter what you send down from your mighty throne. When that happens, it might be helpful to have someone else lookin’ out for the little one. Even with this one -” he tilted his head purposefully towards Buffy, “doing a fantastic ice queen impression for the rest of the little puppies, someone’s gonna try their luck, and she’s gotta sleep sometime. Just makes sense is all I’m sayin’.”

Buffy swallowed the hard knot that had settled in her throat. What Spike said made sense, damn him! She wouldn’t be able to protect Dawn all the time and having someone else on her side to watch out for the girl was smart. Living away from the others wouldn’t be so bad and it wasn’t like spare houses were in abundance here. They’d have to stay somewhere during this stupid quarantine. Well, they didn’t; not if she didn’t mind taking Dawn and leaving, that is. 

Buffy found herself in the middle of an intense internal battle. The part of her that was worried that there truly was something wrong with the girl whispered that staying where there were people more trained to deal with the medical possibilities than she was would probably be the smart choice. Then the Watcher-trained potential slayer reared her head and said that living with a vampire was just asking to end up as someone’s midnight snack, blood oath or no blood oath. Finally, the purely eighteen-year-old part of her waved her hand frantically and pointed out that having someone else around to help with this huge task of semi-parenthood, even if that someone was a vampire, was surely of the good. 

Angel’s voice drew her out of her inner debate and back to the present. “I don’t… It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to house them. People would say I was biased and would question my decisions where the girl is concerned. I’m sorry, Buffy. If I could…” His words were apologetic, but his tone and expression implied that he was relieved to have an excuse to decline. 

“No, no I wouldn’t expect you to…” She stopped and sighed, “Spike is right, and I’m very...grateful for his offer. Dawn would probably be much safer if we were to stay with him.”

Spike crossed his arms lazily and chuckled. “Well, that’s all well and good, pidge. Glad to see you bein’ reasonable. Now we just got to work out our price.”

Buffy frowned; her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Price? I don’t-”

Spike’s mocking laugh interrupted her. “What? You’re getting a pretty sweet deal out of this, aren’t you? You get an upgrade in accommodations: a nice cozy house as opposed to whatever second or third-hand piece of tarp they had you in before. You get protection for yourself and the Bit if and when someone gets their knickers twisted too bad. And as an added bonus, you get the pleasure of my fabulous company. You think that all comes free?”

Angel offered her a sympathetic look. “Rule four, Buffy: barter with honor. Offer a fair price for what you need.”

“But I don’t have anything. We just got here! Unless you have a lifelong desire for an old stuffed pig, I don’t know what I could-”

“Got blood, don’t you?” The too-casual glance he threw her way hit Buffy like a truck. _He’s been after this the whole time...this whole show just so he could-_

“You’re doing all this just so you can bite us? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Spike frowned, indignant. “Oi, not planning to bite the little one! I have pride, you know. Bit’s so small I’d only get a mouthful or so before she keeled over anyway. Besides, it’d sort of defeat the whole idea of protecting her if I was feedin’ off her too.” 

“Oh good, so you do have some standards. They’re just batshit crazy ones! To think I was worried!” Her sardonic tone cut like a blade; but sick bastard that he was, Spike found himself enjoying it. 

“Look, sweetheart-”

“Not your sweetheart, buddy.”

“Oh yeah? Not your buddy-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! ENOUGH!” Angel’s command broke through the fog of the argument and brought their attention back to him. He muttered an Irish curse under his breath before continuing.

“Look, the bottom line is that unless you want to take your...whatever she is and go, you need a place to stay until the quarantine period is over. Spike has made a generous offer and it makes the most sense right now. Asking for blood in trade is not uncommon or unreasonable here at camp. However,” Angel fixed Spike with a hard stare, “given the...unusually long period of time of this trade, I’m going to require the witches to put you both under a modified oath of your own. This isn’t a one-off exchange and I’d hate to assume that _anyone_ would take advantage of that.” 

Buffy stared at Angel incredulously. “What do you mean by an oath? Like we spit in our hands and shake?”

Spike snorted and she shot him an icy glare before returning her gaze to Angel.

“Not quite. It would be a lot like what we require of the vampires that want to join the camp. It’s a magically bonded promise; you’ll each state what you are offering in the exchange and your blood will hold you to it. If you purposefully break or betray your oath, the consequences can be...painful.” His explanation seemed to irritate Spike, who scowled but said nothing. 

“So, what exactly am I...promising?” 

“Ultimately, that’s between you and Spike. Why don’t you take a moment to figure that out while I get the witches back? The sooner we get this settled, the better.” 

The two nodded and Angel rose to leave. Before walking away, he looked at Buffy and offered cryptically, “Don’t promise anything you don’t intend or can’t afford to see through.” 

And just like that, they were alone.

They faced off like opponents in battle sizing up the other side’s strengths and weaknesses. For all the questions she wanted to ask him, the first thing that came out of Buffy’s mouth was, “Why **did** you help us last night?”

Spike’s eyes widened briefly, betraying his surprise. That hadn’t been what he’d expected her to start with and it threw him off balance momentarily.

“Seemed like the right thing to do. Aren’t we all supposed to be working for peace and goodwill and all that puppies and Christmas rot?”

Buffy jerked her head towards the direction Angel had gone. “That may be what he says; it might even be what he believes. But you and I both know how demons really are.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading on his face. “That right, pet? Got us all figured out, do you?”

She huffed, arms crossed in front of her. “As much as I need to. I know that vampires don’t offer to help little girls when they’re sick; they don’t stick around to make sure she’s going to be okay. They definitely don’t offer protection and help to those little girls. So I’ll ask you again: why did you help us?”

Spike shrugged indifferently, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his long coat. “Just ‘cause I’m evil doesn’t mean I’m just gonna let someone die on principle. Not enough of you pulsers left to just let one go if we can stop it, yeah?”

“Uh-huh. So your help last night and your help today all comes back to what - wanting to protect a potential meal? That’s really all you’re wanting out of this?” Her quirked eyebrow and disbelieving tone made it clear that his next words mattered.

“ ‘S like I said before, you got blood. No matter what His Nibs tries to tell everyone, animal blood in’t good for vamps in the long run. Doesn’t keep us as strong as human blood or taste as good. We make do here, but humans aren’t under any obligation to trade with any of us. A steady supply of the good stuff is worth its weight in gold. It’d be worth it to play nice for a bit in exchange for steady meals. Not like you have anything to worry about; can’t kill you. Can’t even hurt you, really. Think of it as a blood donation to a worthy cause if you like.”

“So… I let you feed off me - **only** me, you said - occasionally, and you let us stay with you for this quarantine period and help me protect her? From anyone? That’s it?”

“Sounds about right. Unless there’s some other bit of information you think I need to know before making this deal with you?” He had an odd glimmer in his eyes that left Buffy with an uncomfortable knot in her stomach. 

She took in a slow, deep breath before fully facing him and sticking her hand out. “No. I guess we have a deal then.” 

_Oh, little girl, you’ve no idea._

With a wide grin, he reached out to grasp her hand firmly. “Yeah, pet. We’ve got a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week on Buffy the Vampire Negotiator...


	8. Lathyrus odoratus (Sweet Pea)

**_Lathyrus odoratus (_ ** **Sweet Pea** **)**

She turned away from him, absently licking a line of blood from a perfectly manicured hand. His low moans and whimpers of pain were irrelevant to her; everything was a means to an end, after all. Yellow eyes faded to a different, more innocent-looking color and the demonic ridges and fangs gave way to a far less threatening face. Its elegant beauty masked cold darkness that had been the death of countless unsuspecting men over the centuries. 

Her prisoner would break soon, she was sure. He was stubborn and prideful - both traits she could relate to if not respect - but pride only took a body so far. He was growing weaker every day, and his inability to call on his magical abilities in their current environment was breaking his spirit all the more quickly. A few more days...a week, at most. She’d have the answers she needed. 

Behind her, the man coughed hoarsely. The splatter of red drops on the floor let him know she’d managed to do a fair amount of internal damage today. Not enough to kill him, mind. Oh no, she’d never let him go so easily. Soon one of her minions would enter with healing balms and food to help him recover for tomorrow’s interrogation. He would live until he broke, or she found another source of information; whichever came first. 

After all his years of demonic rituals and power, he’d thought himself strong. Many demon lords and hell gods required terrible prices for their boons and he’d always been willing to pay them. But with her...he’d been unprepared. Simply unprepared for the sheer calculating ferocity that she brought to their every interaction. She knew exactly where to cut, where to bleed, and where to tease with the idea of respite. A true artist, really! More’s the pity for her canvas. He hoped he would last long enough for a difference to be made. He’d done what he could before she found him. He could only pray that she’d never find what she sought. Gods help them if she did. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

All things considered, Buffy had expected something with the name “blood oath” to be much more complicated. She’d pictured men in robes chanting, smoky rooms, and swirly magic twisting around bloody, dripping hands. Really, the whole experience has reminded her more of when Joyce had taken her along to a car dealership and she’d half-listened to her mother negotiate with the short, oily man over prices and interest rates before signing on the dotted line. 

She’d stood in awkward silence with Spike for a few minutes after their agreement before Angel had returned with Willow. The redhead had offered Buffy another one of her bright smiles and told her that Dawn had woken up again and was talking with Wes and even eating a little. That information had caused the knot in Buffy’s stomach to ease a little and strengthened her resolve to go through with the deal. She’d do anything she could to keep Dawn safe, even go against every Watcher-trained instinct in her body and enter a deal for her blood with a vampire. 

Willow had instructed Buffy and Spike to stand next to each other, then waved some kind of stinky herb over their heads; Spike had coughed and shook his head in a way that reminded her of a dog who’d found a skunk. Willow had then produced a small dagger from her bag. They’d each created a small cut on one of their hands as Willow had recited the words to begin the oath spell. They’d each repeated some fancy words and stated what they brought to the deal. It had all felt very stiff and legal. Buffy had had to be specific in what she offered, for how long, and when the deal would be considered fulfilled. When Willow had told them to grasp hands to complete the spell - while there hadn’t been any swirly magic like she’d imagined - Buffy could swear some kind of electricity went up through her arm. It had seemed as if Spike had felt it too; when they’d released hands, he’d shaken his arm out as though it bothered him. 

When it was over, Angel had laid a heavy hand on her shoulder and wished her luck. To Spike, he’d simply muttered, “Don’t be an ass.” 

They’d left together to go get Dawn. Willow had given her blessing to move the girl to Spike’s cabin; Tara was supposed to wait for them to arrive and give final instructions. The walk to the clinic had been quiet, each of them still feeling odd and lost in their own tumultuous thoughts. 

As they walked through the door of the clinic, Buffy didn’t even try to hide the relief on her face. Dawn was sitting up, bright-eyed, talking animatedly to Wes and messily slurping down a bowl of soup. Her happy cry of ‘Buffy! You’re back!’ was enough to melt the ice that had been accumulating around Buffy’s heart all night. She quickly crossed the room and took a seat next to the little girl’s bed. 

“Hey, Dawnie! How are you feeling?” She brushed a strand of hair out of Dawn’s face, subtly feeling her forehead for any signs of fever. 

Dawn grinned and pointed at Wes. “I feel great! Wes was telling me a funny story about one time when he got poison ivy and it made him all itchy.” 

They shared a laugh at the image; it felt good to laugh and somehow it made it easier for Buffy to segue into the next conversation. 

“Dawn, I need to tell you about something that happened tonight.” 

The little girl’s face sobered instantly. “Wes told me that you had to go talk to Angel. Is it because of me?” 

Buffy grabbed Dawn’s hand and squeezed. “No, honey. Not really. People...some people just got scared that maybe you were really sick, and they want to make sure their families are safe. So, we’re not going to go back to the tent together. We’re going to be staying with Spike for a little while until we’re sure you’re all better.” She turned and gestured towards the vampire still standing by the door. 

“Oh.” Dawn’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. “But...isn’t he a-?”

Buffy nodded, stiffening slightly when she felt him come up behind her. “Yes, he is. But you’re going to be safe, Dawn. Spike and I have a deal, and he’s going to help me keep you safe while we figure out what’s going on, okay?”

The little girl and the vampire considered one another warily. She looked him up and down before asking, “Do you really eat people?” 

“Dawnie, don’t-”

“‘S all right, pet. Niblet’s got a right to ask a few questions, doesn’t she?” The pained look on Buffy’s face was worth any discomfort he might be feeling at the young girl’s intense expression. He moved around Buffy and knelt beside her bed before answering.

“Not so much these days, Little One, but yeah. I have and I would if the opportunity presented itself.” 

“Are you going to eat us?”

“No. Like she said, we made a deal.” He jerked his chin in Buffy’s direction with exaggerated annoyance.

“Are you nice?”

“Not a bit.”

“Do you like kids?

“Side of fries and I like ‘em fine.” 

Buffy sputtered next to him in disgust, but the little girl gave him a mischievous grin. 

“Do you snore?”

“Don’t need to breathe, so I doubt it. Reckon you’ll tell me, though.”

Dawn nodded seriously, still giving him that smile that reminded him of drawings of fairies he’d seen in books as a boy. He didn’t like it.

“Can I see your other face?” 

He quirked an eyebrow; ballsy little thing, wasn’t she? Before any of the adults could protest, he allowed his demon forward and watched her reaction. Any other child would have shrunk back, maybe cried a bit, or at least whimpered in fright. That’s what they **should** do if they had any brains at all. She simply considered him carefully for a moment before reaching up and touching his forehead ridges without any hesitation. He almost fell over from the surprise. Somewhere in the corner of his awareness, he registered the scrape of Buffy’s chair as she stood up quickly beside him. Just as he’d decided that the sensation of her tracing his brow was strange, Dawn’s hand began to move downward past his yellow eyes and towards his mouth. On instinct, his lips pulled back and he let out a quiet, warning growl. Her hand stopped instantly; then dropped away. 

His demon face receded, and the little girl regarded him with a look that was far too old for her face. Almost as if she was...amused by him. Well, that wouldn’t do. Have to scare the girl good and proper real soon, wouldn’t he? He couldn’t have her thinking she could just walk up to strange vampires and… Why did he care again? 

“Okay. I like you! I’m ready to go now.” Dawn’s cheerful voice broke through his thoughts and he finally noticed the looks of badly disguised fear coming from the adults in the room. 

That was more like it. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buffy trudged along behind Spike, the moonlight just bright enough to see him in the dark, even through the trees. The sound of their feet on dried-out pine needles and branches on the forest floor filled the silence, and for that she was glad. It was after midnight now, and while she’d grown used to being active at night in their travels, the last 24 hours had taken its toll and she felt her eyelids start to itch with the desire to rest. 

Dawn walked beside her, her hand clasped in Buffy’s once again. She’d insisted on walking by herself; if not for Willow’s suggestion that letting her test her strength might give them an idea of the effects of whatever had happened to her, Buffy probably would have pressed the issue and carried her anyway. She’d compromised by carrying their things, which had been quickly retrieved by Wes to avoid any problems with the other residents. Looking at Dawn now, there was hardly anything to suggest that there had ever been anything wrong. If she was walking a little slower or breathing a little harder than normal, it could easily be blamed on the weirdness of the past 24 hours and spending the day in bed. 

Spike walked ahead of the girls; his mind troubled. His interaction with the little girl had left him uncomfortable and off-balance. To be honest, he’d hardly considered her at all when he’d had his idea to make a deal with Buffy. She’d been the carrot to dangle in front of his quarry’s face and he hadn’t anticipated her being anything more than a fly in his periphery. He certainly hadn’t expected her questions or for her to pet him like a sodding puppy. Stupid chit. If she did that to the wrong vamp, she’d have pulled back bloody stumps instead of fingers. 

Did that make him the right vamp? Bleedin’ Christ onna cross. 

He scrubbed a hand down his face and scowled. _The plan, mate! Just focus on the fucking plan,_ he thought to himself.

Easier said than done, really. As he stomped along, the lack of actual conversation forced him to actually what he’d signed on for. In his in-the-moment genius, he’d figured he was getting a pretty good deal. Live in buffet in exchange for maybe having to flash some fang at any human or demon who thought they’d take a shot at the little one. And if her blood just happened to be extra special with all its potential ability? Well, he wouldn’t be complaining, now would he? Might be enough to get him back to fighting fit like he was when he’d been able to feed whenever the hell he’d wanted. And if she just happened to like him at the end enough to want to continue their deal afterwards? Hardly gonna turn down a lovely - albeit unpleasant - girl, was he? He knew he was a handsome bloke. Birds seemed to like him. Shouldn’t be too hard to turn her head and get her to extend their little agreement past the quarantine period.

How hard could it be to live with two humans for a few weeks? Granted it had been over a century since he’d paid much attention to humans past their position on the food chain, but it couldn’t be so bad. Listening to the little girl jabber to her temperamental protector behind him, he wondered absently if it was acceptable to lock them both in a room for the duration. 

Thankfully, before he’d had too long to consider what was acceptable for humans as ‘living conditions’, they’d arrived at his home. It was a small, rough looking cabin in a small, open grove surrounded by tall trees. While not large by anyone’s estimation, it had a good sized main room with the kitchen and ‘living room’ and an extra bedroom besides his own. He wasn’t sure he’d ever even looked inside the extra room; for all he knew, a nest of gremlins had moved in. 

When Angel had first recruited him to his barmy idea of Utopia after Dru was gone, one of Spike’s few requirements had been a solitary, solid space for himself. He’d done the nest thing before and had no desire to do it again. At the time, what was left of his heart was still torn and bloody from losing Dru and he wouldn’t even stomach the idea of living around others. All he needed was a dark space where he could sleep and drink what alcohol he could get his hands on in peace. Thankfully, as far as His Royal Forehead was concerned, Spike could have and do what he liked -within reason- so long as he was willing to handle the day to day problems with the other vamps and keep them in line; this, of course, freed Angelus to posture and hold court as the Mighty Vampire Lord. 

The whole thing suited Spike fine. He had no desire to deal with the politics of running the camp, and vampires were suitably independent creatures. While social beings in their own right, they were happy to stay in their groups of two or three and only came to him with issues of fair trade or hunting rights. The rest of the time, as long as they weren’t harassing the human population, they managed themselves as well as one could expect. This left Spike blissfully free to spend his nights hunting or trading for something to send him into his next stupor. As he led them towards the door, he wondered how his ‘happy’ existence was about to change. 

Though Buffy had lived fine without electricity for over a year now, it was still almost a habit to walk through a door and feel for a light switch. As soon as they entered, Spike had veered to the side and begun to dig in what looked like it might be the kitchen. There was a bit of moonlight coming in; not enough to make out any details, but enough to keep from running into a wall or door.

Spike found what he’d been looking for and a small flame broke the darkness. He lit a small candle that had obviously been well used as it had melted all over the small plate it was on. When he walked back to them, Buffy almost jumped. He wore his demon’s face, which, if she thought about it, made sense. His eyesight was probably much better that way at night. But the glint of fangs and glare of golden eyes in candlelight was jarring and she couldn’t help the slight shiver that ran up her spine. 

He didn’t seem to notice her discomfort; holding the small makeshift candle holder up, he offered a mumbled "This way…” and led them through the dark room. He was able to make the journey soundlessly, but Buffy and Dawn both kept tripping over randomly strewn detritus as they crossed the floor. Buffy wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what covered the floor of a vampire's home. Visions of bones and blood danced in her mind, but she shook them away. Dawn didn’t seem bothered and followed behind trustingly. 

Spike opened a door along the far wall and gestured them inside. With candlelight, Buffy could make out a single bed with a mattress that had seen better days. As far as she was concerned, it might as well have been a featherbed from the penthouse suite of the Ritz. It had been so long since she’d had an actual bed to sleep in that she wondered if she’d actually be able to sleep at all. Beside her, Dawn let out a happy cry and pushed past her. The little girl dove head first onto the bed and let out contented giggles as she rolled from side to side. Buffy smiled softly as she watched; behind her, Spike shook his head at the child. She acted like an overeager fledge in a nest. Not even five minutes in his home and he was already wondering if their domesticity would kill him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Buffy rub her arms absently and he remembered that humans got cold, especially at night. He tapped Buffy’s shoulder and handed her the candle before walking back to his own room. There’d been a blanket in there at some point, but he couldn’t ever remember using it. There was an abnormally large pile of empties over in the corner - maybe under that…?

Buffy watched Dawn happily roll herself over the mattress over and over. It was an innocent enjoyment that never would have occurred to her to indulge. As far as she was concerned, if Dawn would just scoot over a bit, Buffy would be content to just fall face first into the mattress and pass out. Well, maybe not face first. Who knew how long it had been since it’d been aired out or even used? It probably smelled funny. _Yeah, ‘cause that’s gonna keep you from sleeping on it. Right. Buffy the Mattress Snob, that’s me!_

When she felt Spike come up behind her again, she turned to ask about a blanket only to see him carrying one in his arms. He gave her a sheepish look that bordered on apologetic when he handed it to her. It was musty and smelled faintly of something sour or alcoholic, but it would do. It was warm and thick and suddenly Buffy couldn’t wait another minute to fall asleep. 

“Reckon’ you birds want to get some rest. Don’t worry about makin’ noise when you wake up - I tend to sleep like the dead, anyway.” 

Buffy offered a token sleepy smile at his joke. 

“Okay. I’m sure we’ll be out for a while after...all of this.” 

“Right. Need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re fine. Spike… Thanks again.” 

He shrugged. “Sure. Well, sweet dreams and all that rot.” 

She’d already started to shut the door, but paused and replied, “You too. Night, Spike.” 

Then the door closed, and he was suddenly clueless as to what to do with himself. Spike spent an awkward moment staring at the door before he remembered that he still had a bottle of godawful moonshine under one of his pillows. That’d do fine. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Several hours later, across the camp, Angel could feel the beginnings of the familiar signals that it was time for a rest. It had been a…long night, to put it mildly. His ‘courtroom’ had emptied long ago, and he’d been able to spend the past few hours in quiet contemplation. A rare occurrence these days, so he was thankful for it. There was plenty that he needed to process in order to get in front of all the potential complaints that his decision would raise. 

He gripped the mug of blood that he’d been holding for the past hour. He couldn’t get Buffy Summers out of his head long enough even to eat; he couldn’t afford that. Couldn’t afford that kind of distraction, especially now. His mind flashed back to Tara’s visit earlier that evening.

_“Angel, you wanted to s-see me?” A flash of blond hair and furrowed brow. Nervousness that was so ingrained that it became part of her scent._

_“Yes, come in, Tara. Shut the door.”_

_A quick glance to the door, like prey looking for an escape._

_“Did you get anything from any of the newcomers? Seemed like a harmless bunch in all.”_

_“Oh! Oh...yes. Harmless. N-nothing of concern.” Her heartbeat - she was lying. Why? Tara didn’t lie._

_“Tara...something I should know?”_

_“I… It’s nothing, Angel. One of them had a… different sort of feel. N-nothing harmful, though.”_

_A pause. That particular look that reminded her of just who he was. “Tara.”_

_She sighs; eyes dropped low. “One of the w-women. She’s a P-potential.”_

_A long moment passes. “I see.”_

_Her next words come out in a rush as her heartbeat pulses like a tap dance. “I don’t even think she knows, Angel. She’s got a little girl with her: a sister, I think. I don’t even think she knows.”_

_“Thank you, Tara. I’ll let you get back to the clinic.”_

_“Angel, you won’t-” A sharp glance and she retreats just as he knows she will._

_“I’ll deal with it if it needs to be dealt with. Thank you, Tara.”_

_He turns away and she understands that she’s been dismissed._

_“Tara? Don’t tell anyone.”_

_“Of course, Angel.”_

He shook his head, dismissing the memory. He hadn’t really even decided what to do with the information before the issue with the child had come up. In theory, it might not have mattered much at all. A potential had no extra abilities, no sacred calling. Unless she was a true believer, she wouldn’t even be a danger to the peaceful demons as a regular human. 

But there was always that chance. That one in a million, one girl in all the world chance. No one knew where the current Slayer was. She was, he assumed, still alive, but no one had seen hide nor hair of her in the past year. But if she were to die and by some miracle, their little camper got called? His community wouldn’t stand for a Slayer in their midst. There was too much threat in the current world to add a potential mass assassin with supernatural strength to the mix. Add that to the mistrust surrounding the little girl, and Angel could already feel the headache that would come if the others in the camp found out about any of it. 

Angel hadn’t said anything to Spike when he had offered to be a “bloody hero” and take the girls in. He probably should have. He had that painful twinge that always showed up when he did something for his own comfort or ease. And it **was** easier to let them go with Spike for now, so long as the so-called Slayer of Slayers remained unaware of her status. Angel wasn’t sure what would have happened if she’d insisted on staying with him. His role as leader afforded him the emotional solitude that he craved if not actual physical solitude. He was often surrounded by others, but none of his relationships here were what he’d call intimate. In fact, he’d expressly sought out others - Spike, for example - to handle the more intimate day to day interactions so that he could remain apart as much as possible. 

That was good. That was how it should be. He hadn’t started Ultimum Spes for the power - even if his demon luxuriated in the fear his role inspired - but for the need. This camp provided a chance for his atonement; the demon who’d cornered him in the gutters all those years ago had told him so. The Powers That Be weren’t done with him and this camp was his penance. In his mind, the lives he saved here stacked up against the lives he’d taken over the years. He’d never be done.

He should have offered to take the girls in. It may have been kinder than to subject them to Spike and all his...unique proclivities. So what if it would have been uncomfortable - painful, really - to be in such close quarters with all the things they represented that he could never have again: innocence, love, family. 

_Soft skin over warm, rushing blood; cherry lips parted in a sigh; scraped, bloody knees as she kneels on the -_

Angel shook his head violently. He heaved a labored sigh as he stood up to head towards his cabin for the day. No, Spike, for all his faults and any potential danger should he find out about the woman. That was the safer choice for all of them. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buffy woke slowly to scattered beams of sunshine coming through the curtains. Outside, birds chirped back and forth to each other, and a slight breeze shook the branches of a tree in front of their window. It sounded and felt so peaceful that, for a moment, Buffy simply burrowed deeper into her pillow and sighed happily. When she finally opened her eyes after a long, luxurious stretch, she turned her head and smiled to herself. Dawn had stretched out on her side of the bed like an overgrown puppy, a strand of her hair stuck to the side of her open mouth. The little girl breathed heavily as she slept; the sound reminded Buffy of the snorts that she had pretended as a child that Mr. Gordo could make. 

She sat for a moment, considering all the events of the night before. Nothing that had happened would have been on her “Any Given Tuesday” Bingo card, but it had happened nonetheless. Spike’s involvement had been a stroke of luck, really, and she wondered if she’d have a chance to talk to him more about his motivations at some point that day. There were still so many questions to ask, and the good night’s rest had given her the energy to ask them. 

The bed creaked in protest when she rolled to put her feet on the ground. The rough floor was cold underneath her feet, but she wiggled her toes in bliss anyway. A girl could get spoiled with an actual pillow and mattress. A Sleep Number it was not, but it sure put the sleeping bags she’d been in for over a year to shame. She rose quietly so as to let the exhausted child sleep. As far as she was concerned, Dawn could sleep the day away if she liked. They were stuck here for two weeks; what better way to use their time than to catch up on their beauty rest? Realistically, that wasn’t going to be what happened, but it was nice to dream. 

Buffy dressed slowly, careful to watch where she stepped so she didn’t wake Dawn by banging her knee on the wall or something equally clumsy. Her stomach growled and she wondered what time it was; would she have time to get back to the main camp for something to eat? Was she allowed to? It struck her that she hadn’t asked about her freedom in camp during this time. She added the question to her list to ask Spike when she saw him.

A good night’s rest had left Buffy feeling much more positive when it came to their new housemate. After all, no one had made him make the offer and what he asked for was pretty reasonable in the grand scheme of things. He could have been a pervert and wanted a sex slave or something but all he’d asked for was what he needed to survive. In exchange, he’d offered his home to them as well as his protection. It struck her as almost kind; even in a trade, she couldn’t see many vampires agreeing to protect a little girl or host them in their home. He’d even made sure they were comfortable before leaving them for the night. The blanket was a little rough in the smell department, but the gesture was nice. Maybe he wasn’t really so bad. Maybe he was—

An **ass** of epic and disgusting proportion!!

Through the muted light coming through the thick curtains on the windows, Buffy could finally see the ‘debris’ that she and Dawn had tripped over the night before. Jars, bottles, and cans littered the floor in front of her, stray beams of light bouncing off the glass and metal in a deceptively cheerful manner. They were all empty, strewn about in piles, hills, and mountains like some sort of twisted topographic alcoholic’s map. 

For a moment she stood, stunned, blinking as though the scene before her would change if she just closed her eyes enough. Unfortunately, every time they opened, the scene remained unchanged. Her thoughts whirled a thousand different directions as she processed the implications of what she was seeing. While alcohol could still be found and traded for with relative ease, especially as people relearned the “art” of homemade moonshine and rotgut, this amount of it was impressive in a very sickening way. This took dedication. This took time. This took a really disturbed person.

Speaking of which, where was he? Buffy whipped her head around to see the entire room. No Spike, just more empty bottles. As her irritation and surprise quickly morphed into rage and disgust, she fixed her eyes on a closed door on the other side of the cabin from their room. It was only her thoughts of Dawn and not wanting to wake the girl that kept her from crashing through the piles of trash on her way to the door. She didn’t bother with subtlety; satisfied that the sound wouldn’t carry too much across the house, she slammed the door open. 

A moment passed and she let out a choked cry before slapping a hand over her eyes. Spike lay passed out in the middle of his bed; more evidence of his alcohol ‘problem’ surrounded him on all sides of the floor. He loosely gripped a small bottle in his hand that teetered on the edge of the mattress. There was a blanket on the bed, but it had been shoved to the very edge near the wall while he was faced towards the foot of the bed. All of this would have been disturbing on its own, but it was nothing compared to the man himself. Buffy kept her hand firmly over her eyes even as she felt the heat rising to her cheeks. Try as she might, the image of Spike’s pale, naked form wasn’t fading. Even in the low light of the room, his body stood out glaringly against the dark bedding. 

Buffy had seen her share of naked men. In a camp setting where bathing happened with limited privacy, if any at all, she had learned early on to approach the naked body with a sort of clinical detachment. “Oh, those are her boobs” or “Yup, that’s a penis” became her mental chant to move past the modesty she’d been raised with. It had been a mostly successful shift in thinking; although, she still managed to do her own bathing with a wrapped towel and a sponge when there were others around. 

This was not like those situations. Buffy wasn’t sure if it were even possible to look at someone like Spike clinically. With his large duster and stiff denim, she hadn’t realized that he was so… well, nicely shaped. He had broad, muscular shoulders that led down to a smooth, flat waist. By lying on his stomach, he gave her a good look at his firm, strong-looking thighs topped with an even firmer - 

Nope. Not thinking about that. She was mad at him. She was. Even pretty vampires could be complete slobs and this one was. 

Her hand still covering her eyes, Buffy huffed and considered her next move. She cautiously lifted her palm enough to see just in front of her without being able to see the bed too. The answer came in the form of two giant black boots that looked to have been haphazardly tossed by the door. With a mischievous grin, she picked one up and hefted it in her free hand. Oh yes. 

*THWACK* 

“Bloody buggerin’ FUCK!” The pained roar from the bed made Buffy want to laugh, but she held it in. She was still angry, after all. 

“What the bleeding hell was that for, you daft bint??” 

Suddenly faced with him actually awake, Buffy forgot what it was she was going for with her boot missile. 

“I was — your house is a mess. There’s enough empties out here to fill a recycling plant!” She placed a hand on her hip and gave her head a haughty shake, hoping that it would make up for the ridiculous picture she must make with her hand still over her eyes. 

“What??” His voice rose in an incredulous pitch. “You...you woke me for - are you completely off your trolley?” 

Buffy frowned; this wasn’t how she’d pictured this in her head. Not that she’d pictured...never mind. 

“Dawn’ll be up soon and I don’t want her to see all of that. She doesn’t need to know that you’re a complete boozehound! She’s just a kid!” 

“What part of this are you expectin’ me to care about? I don’t give a damn if she walks in on me doin’ shots off a one-legged hooker’s tits - it’s my home!” - He dropped his head back onto the bed and waved a dismissive hand towards Buffy - “Now sod off and let me sleep.” Under his breath, he muttered, “Stupid twit!…” as he turned away from her.

*THWACK* 

“Fucking hell, you **bitch**!”

She shut the door behind her to cut him off and dropped her hand. A calculating smirk spread on her lips; she listened to him continue to curse behind the door. Oh, she’d just show him. 

By the time Dawn woke an hour later, the floor was clear and the main room looked at least somewhat put together. She’d wiped down the table and even found a sprig of bright pink sweet pea flowers outside to put in a freshly washed cup of water. Not perfect, but their sweet scent would disguise some of the booze smell that seemed to be ingrained in the floor. Buffy smiled to herself and wondered what Spike would think of her “surprise” when he woke up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback keeps the muse fat and happy!


	9. Urtica dioica (Stinging Nettle)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any folks who are also on EF, this is currently a featured story!! Woohoo!
> 
> So fun fact, this chapter contains one of the first scenes I ever imagined for this story. It is EXTREMELY different now than it was in my original imaginings. I like this version much better, honestly, and I'm happy with where it will take our favorite folks in the end!

**_Urtica dioica_ ** **(Stinging Nettle)**

The sun shone down brightly overhead as Buffy walked the trail back to the main camp. The trees blocked some of it out, but the little bursts of light on the ground ahead left her with a nostalgic desire for a game of hopscotch. It sounded like something Dawn would do, and the thought of the little girl skipping from sunbeam to sunbeam brought a smile to Buffy’s face. 

When Dawn had finally emerged from her nest of blankets, hair curling in one direction and sticking up in another, she’d hugged Buffy’s middle and mumbled a sleepy ‘good morning’ into her stomach.

_“Good morning, sleepy bear. Have a good rest?” Buffy’s tone was light as she gave the little girl a squeeze back before releasing her to walk into the small “kitchen”._

_Dawn plopped herself in one of the two chairs around what Buffy assumed was supposed to be a kitchen table and nodded. She casually swiveled her head around to look at the room; then, her brows furrowed slightly. “Buffy, where’s Spike?”_

_“Sleeping.” Buffy had answered quickly. “You know...vampire. They sleep for most of the day. They’re kinda like bats that way!” She hoped her bright smile would keep Dawn from prying too deeply or noticing what Buffy left for the vampire to find._

_“Oh. I forgot about that.” Dawn seemed to mull it over for a moment but shook off any questions in favor of moving on to a new topic. “So, what’s there to eat?”_

_Buffy had frowned at the cabinets she’d been methodically opening and closing in search of breakfast. It hit her suddenly that a vampire living alone probably wouldn’t have much reason to keep food in the house._

_“Y’know, Dawnie, I think Spike must have run out. How about I run back to camp and grab us some grub? Think you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” Buffy left the kitchen to grab her boots from beside the door._

_Dawn had offered her a cheeky, too-innocent smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Can’t really get in a lot of trouble when I’m stuck here.”_

_“Okay....well, I won’t be long, all right? You just stay in the house and I’ll be back before you know it. Oh, and Dawn...” - Dawn had looked at her with wide, guileless eyes, but Buffy had still felt the need to clarify - “leave Spike alone.”_

_The little girl had pouted but nodded in agreement._

The closer she got to camp, the more people she began to see wandering through the wooded paths. Humans and demons alike strolled through the morning sunlight on their way to a job, a hunt, or a quiet escape alone or with a partner. After the constantly somber feel of the Redding camp, it felt jarring to see people smile as though it were a normal occurrence. Even more surprising, one or two even called out a greeting to her. 

Buffy entered the main encampment without incident and immediately picked out Willow’s shock of red hair by the clinic building. She remembered the witch’s intervention with Tara the night before and turned to walk towards where Willow was leaning over a small plot of herbs and flowers. 

“Buffy!” Willow’s smile was bright and open when she called out to Buffy. “There you are! I was going to come out and check on Dawn later. How are you settling in?” 

Buffy thought of the mountains of empty bottles and her ‘surprise’ for the sleeping vampire and couldn’t stop a grimace. “Oh...we’ll be all right. Just getting used to each other. I don’t think Spike’s used to being around other people yet.” 

Willow frowned; she straightened and wiped her dirty hands on her apron. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s not an ideal situation for either of you.” 

Buffy shrugged, unsure of how much she should say. “No, it’s not. But it helps Dawn, so I guess I can’t complain too much, you know?”

“Oh, totally! I get it. And hey - at least it’s just for two weeks, right? Not like you had to marry the guy!” Willow laughed at the joke, but Buffy paled as the suggestion reminded her just what Spike could have asked for in return for his help. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Buffy glanced away for a moment, suddenly nervous. “Willow...what can you tell me about Spike?” 

Willow looked at her with an intense expression. “Are you afraid of him? That he might hurt you or Dawn?”

“What? No! I mean, he can’t, right? I mean, that’s what he promised, isn’t it? That he wouldn’t hurt us.”

Willow looked thoughtful. “Well, technically he only swore to protect Dawn. You weren’t part of the-” She stopped abruptly at Buffy’s horrified expression. “-Which is SO not the issue here, is it? Um, okay. Let’s go in and sit down for a minute, hmm? Can I get you some tea?”

Buffy eyed her skeptically. “Well, I was on my way to get something to eat for me and Dawn. Is it that bad?” 

Willow shook her head and turned to walk into the clinic. “No, of course not! I just don’t think that’s the best conversation for out in my garden. C’mon!”

Buffy followed her in and took a seat in a chair near the long table where Willow had mixed the Yarrow tea for Dawn. When the witch started to pull various bottles off of the shelf above, Buffy felt her feet begin to tap quietly in impatience. “Soooo...Spike?”

Willow pursed her lips at Buffy’s question. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before pulling a knife from somewhere in the apron and beginning to chop some sort of green plant on the counter. As she worked, she talked. 

“Well, the first and foremost thing I think you’re going to have to remember is that he’s not human.” - Buffy’s huff interrupted her for a moment, but she continued - “I know you **know** that, but it’s hard sometimes when they look like us so often. One of the first lessons I learned when I moved here was that I couldn’t expect the vampires or demons to do what I thought a human would do. They aren’t governed by human expectations because they aren’t human. But Spike… well, he’s not so bad, really.”

Buffy quirked an eyebrow, but Willow was still turned towards the table and didn’t catch it. “What do you mean, not so bad?” 

Willow sighed; her chopping ceased for a moment before she began again. “So, it’s like this. For the most part, the majority of the vampires here keep to themselves. They’ll trade with people and some even build friendships with other demons or even some of the humans, but most of them just don’t care. Humans are food, so they see talking to us as kind of like having a pet cow or pig. You might like giving it a pat every now and again, but it’s not any kind of deep relationship and you’re still not going to turn down a bacon cheeseburger if it’s offered. Understand so far?” 

“Yeah, I get it. I’d never thought of it that way, but I guess it makes a little sense.” It seemed much less deviously evil and more Animal Planet than anything her Watcher had ever told her, but Buffy could sort of follow along with Willow’s explanation. 

Willow nodded absently, scraping the chopped pieces into a small bowl. “So that’s the first thing to remember. Most of them don’t even bother talking to the residents here unless they’re trying to trade. Spike’s different though. He’s...nice is a stretch, but because he’s Angel’s second, he’s had to interact with the humans and demons in camp more. You saw how he brought in Mr. Green the other night? I don’t know if any of the others would have done that. They would have waited for Mr. Green to die and then fed. No one would have known because the body would have been scavenged later or carried off by wolves or bears. The oath they’re under only counts if the person is alive. Nothing stops them from feeding on an already dead person.”

“So what keeps them from just setting everything on fire and feeding on the dead?” Buffy felt a sense of dread rising when she considered how easy it might be for Spike to break his promise to them. 

“Angel, mostly.” - Willow shrugged and grabbed another plant from her shelf - “He’s the master here and they follow him. They know what he’d do to them if he found out that a human had been killed or that they’d taken advantage of a trade and someone got hurt. It happened just once about a year ago. A vampire convinced a young woman to follow him into the woods one night for some ‘interspecies negotiations’. He led her to a cave where a puma had been hiding with its cubs and blocked off the exit. The mother protected its babies from the threat and broke the girl’s neck. While the mother was occupied, the vampire grabbed one of the cubs to lure her away from the body. He killed the mother and the cubs and fed off all of them. Because he didn’t kill her or hurt her directly, the consequences of the blood oath didn’t kick in.”

Buffy sat stock-still; her face took on a very ashen hue and she felt her stomach start to rebel. Willow continued to chop up her plants, but Buffy noticed that the cuts were being made quite a bit more forcefully than before. 

“W-what happened to him?”

WIllow’s voice turned cold. “Angel and Spike happened to him. Those two don’t usually have any more interaction than they have to, but they spent hours with the vampire before they dusted him.”

Buffy remembered Angel’s intense expression the night before and shivered. She could imagine what might happen if that intensity had been focused on something else. 

Willow sighed again before turning around enough to lock eyes and give Buffy a reassuring smile. “Since then, there haven’t been any problems. The way I understand it, the vampires mostly view this place as a game reserve. The walls protect all the potential meals and they see themselves almost as game wardens. They can’t kill us or hurt us, but they don’t want to risk losing all the blood.”

“That was kind of how Spike explained why he helped me when Dawn was sick. That it was a waste to let her die.”

“That sounds about right. Hey,” - Willow paused and pointed at a bag sitting next to Buffy’s chair -” will you bring me my bag? I need one more thing for this salve base.” 

“Oh, sure.” Buffy stood and walked to hand her the brown satchel, eyeing the bowl of mushy plant bits. “What’s it for?” 

“It’s kind of like an ointment for joint pain. Really effective, act- OW!” Willow pulled her hand out of the bag with a yelp. She cringed and brought her finger to her mouth. 

“What?? What happened??” For a moment, Buffy feared the possibility of another snake. 

“Oh, I just had a stupid moment. I picked up the nettle and forgot to get some tongs or my gloves.”

“The what-tle?”

“Stinging nettles. You’ve probably seen them around. They’re these unsuspecting looking green plants that are secretly made up of tiny needles. Unfortunately, they’re really great for pain relief and just general body goodness. You just have to get past their prickly outsides!” 

Buffy frowned at the plant lying innocently on Willow’s table. “I guess I haven’t come across them in my book yet. Seems kind of unfair that something good for you can hurt you too.” 

Willow laughed and nodded. “I totally agree! All things that are good for you should taste like chocolate and feel like a soft blanket and all the bad things should be smelly, prickly, and ugly!”

With the tension broken, Buffy felt better about returning to their original subject. “So...with Spike. What I’m hearing is that as far as soulless killers go, he’s not the worst and I should make the best of it?”

Willow’s smile was genuine; none of the ‘too-bright’ quality from before seemed to be present now. “Pretty much. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a Spike expert by any means. From what I’ve seen - yeah - he’s definitely not the worst. Probably want to stay on his good side as much as possible though - just to be safe.”

Buffy winced guiltily. “So what you’re saying is that I probably shouldn’t have put a mountain of empty booze bottles in front of his door for him to trip over when he gets up?” 

Willow’s eyes popped wide and her mouth fell open in a little ‘o’. “Oh. No, that probably won’t end well.” 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The bitch was going to die. 

Spike was still weighing the various pros and cons of tried and true dismemberment versus something more creative like hanging her from a tall tree by her toes and slowly sawing the rope until she crashed into a pile of rabid badgers, but the end result would be the same. She’d be dead and he’d be vindicated. 

It was bad enough that the stupid chit had crashed into his room while he slept and tossed his Docs about like hand grenades. It was bad enough that she’d woken him up with the ridiculous notion that he cared a whit what either of them thought of him. It was bad enough that for a brief, infuriating moment, he almost **did** worry that the little one might take back her freely given “I like you” if shown the evidence of his months-long bender. 

But this was the last - the **very** last- straw. Instead of being mature and either ignoring the mess - because it wasn’t her bloody business- or picking it up and dealing with it like an adult, she’d decided to be petty. 

He’d woken up late in the afternoon; it had taken a moment to remember the girls and wonder why he couldn’t hear their heartbeats. Then he’d remembered Buffy’s outburst and groaned. Surely she was over it by now? Surely, she’d realized her error and when he went out, she’d be all ready to apologize. Maybe she’d even be so sorry for her bitchiness that she’d lay herself invitingly across his lap and let him have his breakfast right off. 

_Right, mate. And Angelus has a thing for granny porn._

Well, at very least, maybe she’d be willing to move on and just forget the whole pointless argument. He would if she would. His mother had taught him manners once upon a time, after all, and he’d forgive her assault via boot if she’d forgive his calling her a bint and a bitch (even if she deserved it). 

Feeling proud of his own generosity, he’d risen from bed and moved towards the door; he grabbed a pair of pants as an afterthought - couldn’t scar the child too badly. 

His last thought before he crashed into the wall of bottles, cans, and jars stacked outside his door was clear. 

The bitch was going to die. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The first thing that ran through Buffy’s head when she and Dawn approached the door at just after sunset was that maybe trying to be out of the house when Spike finally woke up had been a good plan. She’d visualized several different reactions from the vampire, ranging from cool indifference - should she be so lucky - to murderous rage. She wasn’t scared of him, but she feared Dawn getting caught in the crossfire.

The inside of the cabin was eerily quiet; the early evening sky only barely offering enough light to see the inside of the main room. They walked in cautiously, Dawn’s high voice innocently calling out, “Spike? Are you awake yet?” 

“Yeah, Little One. I’m awake.” 

Buffy’s head whipped around at his unexpected reply. Spike sat half-hidden in the shadows in an easy chair on the far side of the room; the tumbler he gripped loosely in his hand held a dark liquid that Buffy suspected was left from one of the bottles she’d seen in his room. He wore his human face, but blue eyes flashed gold behind his carefully controlled expression. 

Dawn either couldn’t or didn’t notice the danger in his body language and carelessly bounded over to where he sat. He broke his gaze with Buffy long enough to give Dawn a small, indulgent smile as she chattered about their afternoon adventures in the woods around his cabin. Buffy shifted in the doorway, unsure if the bubble of calm would pop if she tried to venture further into the house. She glanced towards his door and noticed that the booze pile was completely gone. When she looked back and saw that Spike’s eyes were once again glued to her, she decided she’d better tune back into the conversation. 

Spike’s voice was surprisingly soft as he spoke to the child. “Didja get anything to eat tonight, Bit?”

Dawn nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh! Buffy brought back some stuff from Willow and I helped her put it away, and then we had some stew which was okay even though it was cold, and then we found some blackberries in a little bush when we went exploring and Buffy said they were okay to eat, but I ate a sour one and it wasn’t very good, and then-”

“Whoa there, Bit! Goin’ a bit too fast even for my ears.” Spike’s laugh was warm, affectionate even, but the eyes still locked on Buffy were cold as ice. 

“You know...” Spike paused for a moment to give Dawn a serious look, “Now that the sun’s down, I reckon it’s time for all good little Niblets to be headed towards their beds. You had quite the adventure today, sounds like.” 

Dawn pouted for a moment, but Spike’s ‘I’m an adult, but I’m cool so you should listen on principle’ facade seemed to have won her over and she agreed, albeit a bit sullenly. Buffy quickly decided that Spike had given her a perfect excuse to ignore him for a bit longer and jumped in with an overly bright tone. 

“Spike’s right, Dawnie! You need to get some sleep so that tomorrow I can show you how to make a daisy chain if we can find some flowers. I learned when I was your age at a summer camp. It’ll be lots of fun!”

Placated with the promise of more fun, Dawn began to walk back towards Buffy. She stopped for a moment; then shocked both adults by turning back around and throwing her arms around Spike’s neck in a hug. 

For her part, Buffy couldn’t stop the knee jerk reaction that urged her to find something wooden and pointy before the vampire could bite down on the little girl’s neck. For his part, Spike felt like he’d just been exposed to an overly affectionate leper and had to find a way to disengage them without contaminating himself further. He was a fucking master vampire with enough blood and carnage behind him to rival a small war. The child must be seriously thick to think any part of him looked...huggable. 

He chose to awkwardly pat her head before shooing her off to follow Buffy. Just before she reached the door, Dawn twisted her head to call out, “Night, Spike! Don’t let the bedbugs bite!” The words left a warm imprint somewhere inside him, and he forced himself to think of awful, bloody things in order to push them away. He looked at the woman next to the little girl. _Oh, right. That’ll do the trick. Strange fuzzy feelings gone now,_ he thought wryly. 

Dawn got the most thorough bedtime routine in the history of little kids; Buffy saw to that. They’d read about the stinging nettle in the guidebook because Dawn had become fascinated by the plant when Buffy had described Willow’s accident from earlier that day. After they read, Buffy sang every lullaby she could think of. Then she lay down on the bed and cuddled the little girl for several minutes until Dawn’s deep breathing let Buffy know that she was asleep. Buffy stalled for a few minutes more before taking a deep breath and heading back out to face her fate. 

Her bravery lasted right up until she’d closed the door to Dawn’s room. After that, Buffy resolved to use every stall tactic in the book - first, she lit several candles around the room so that she could see where she was going. Then, she got a drink, went to pee, and spent ten minutes staring at the wood grain of the walls. Next, she got another drink, made a sweep of the house “looking for dirty dishes”, and sorted their very limited laundry into various piles in the main room according to care instructions - never mind that in this brave new world, **she** was the washing machine. All this was done without a single glance to the surly vampire nursing his drink across the room.

Spike watched her march from one end of the cabin to the other as she performed her various tasks with growing impatience. He knew exactly what she was doing and why. She was uncomfortable and doing anything she could to avoid him. Well, that just wouldn’t do. He’d had plenty of time to think before the girls returned and had considered a variety of ways to deal with the little ball of piss and vinegar currently flitting about his home like a brain-damaged butterfly. When the initial murderous haze had faded, he’d been able to remember his plan. Couldn’t hardly expect the chit to fall arse over tits for him and provide him with a potentially endless blood supply if he went and killed her on the second night. Even if she **did** deserve it! 

He understood that theirs was not an arrangement that any Slayer - even a baby one - would have ever imagined herself in, and people often did irrational things in times of great stress. Granted, it wasn’t an arrangement that Spike had ever imagined himself before the world went all to piss. But things were what they were - birds gotta live, vamps gotta eat, and everyone was finding themselves having to make concessions for the sake of survival. So here he was, once again trying to be the bigger “man” and refrain from ripping her limb from limb or feeding her to the badgers. But if she didn’t stop soon...

It was the third trip into their tiny kitchen to check for crumbs on the counter that finally did him in. “Oh for the love of - for fuck’s sake, woman! Sit down before you wear a hole in my floor!” 

Her back stiffened, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she pointedly ignored him and kept cleaning an already clean spot near the stove. She might be a potential Slayer in a post-apocalyptic world and currently in a blood oath with a vampire who she may have played a petty middle school prank on, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t play a mean round of The Quiet Game when the occasion called for it. 

Secretly, she was worried that the moment she stopped, he’d tell her that the deal was off and that she and Dawn had to leave. Although it had felt good and just in the moment, she could admit now that if they lost their only chance here, it would be because she’d been feeling petty and self-righteous. If Dawn got hurt because of her pride, she’d never forgive herself.

Every minute she refused to speak irritated him more. Every avoided glance and purposeful evasion raised his ire to the point that he wondered if chaining her to a wall for the remainder of their time together was a viable option. As a master vampire and Angelus’s second to boot, he’d gotten used to minions and humans alike shrinking in fear and scurrying to do his bidding as quickly as possible. No one told him ‘no’ or refused his orders; no one ignored him. They knew better, having heard the only slightly embellished reason behind his nicknames. Yet here she was, prancing around like the bloody princess in her castle thinking she could ignore him. And damn it, to top it all off, he was hungry. 

After setting his tumbler on the floor, he rolled forward, rising to his feet; when he walked towards her, his heavy boots caused vibrations in the floor. When he approached, he set his face in what he knew to be an intimidating combination of cold eyes, sneering mouth, and just the barest hint of sharpened canines. “Look, you silly chit. I see the stupidly pointless game you think you’re playing, but let’s get a few fucking facts straight. This is my home. We may have a deal, but this” - he paused to gesture all around him - “belongs to me. I don’ know what feral wolf den you were raised in, but - here in the **real** world - it’s considered rude to harass and disrespect the one who’s offering you sanctuary.”

Buffy looked like she wanted to open her mouth to rebut, but Spike cut her off by moving in even closer; her back touched the wall, and her glance behind her was all the time he needed to continue. 

“You’re havin’ buyer's remorse, I get it. You’re realizin’ what you’ve signed up for and it pisses you off. You’re too high and mighty to think you need anyone, let alone a vampire, so you think you can put me in my place by actin’ like the sodding Queen of Sheba and treatin’ me however it suits you until you need me. Well, guess what, little girl? Ain’t gonna happen! This is my home and you’ll keep a peaceful hand and a respectful tongue in your head or I’ll fucking rip it out. Oath says I can’t kill you - doesn’ say shit about beating you black and blue, which is what’ll happen if you **ever** try to disrespect me again the way you did today.” By the time he’d finished, he was almost nose to nose with her. His eyes were almost completely golden, and Buffy could see him struggling to control his demon. 

She felt the heat spread on her face until she thought her hair would catch fire. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she had to keep her fists purposefully clenched at her sides to stop herself from punching him square on the nose. Screw the Quiet Game, this was better. 

“You arrogant, antagonistic, egotistical son of a bitch!" Wes would be proud that she'd picked up a few smart-sounding words from him. "Where do you get off trying to pull this macho predator shit with me?? Is that how you treat the women in your world? No wonder you live all alone, you pompous prick!”

The low growl coming from his chest would have been enough to warn any of his underlings of the danger they were inviting, but she kept right on barreling through like he was as threatening as a fluffy bunny.

“You wanna talk about buyer’s remorse? I think you’re just pissed that I’m not some mild-mannered bite junkie who’ll do anything you want as long as you 'stick ‘em in me’! Isn’t that what you want, Big Bad? You only agreed to this thinking you’d get an easy meal, so don’t act like you’re not getting the better deal and won’t walk the minute you think you can get a better one.”

His hand slammed over her mouth, stopping her tirade. He fixed her with an icy gaze as his lips curled back to reveal his sharpened fangs.

“You listen to me, you infuriating bitch,” he seethed; his voice was low and grave. “First off, I’m no welsher. I made a deal and I’ll do as best I can to keep it. I don’t walk out on a deal - ever. Second, if you think this was all for an easy nip, you’re off your fucking bird. Was making do fine before, wasn’t I? No, I took this deal because some stupid, poncy part of me assumed that no one who took on a brat what weren’t theirs and risked their lives for them could be that bad. That maybe they deserved a break instead of being offed in the middle of the night by some unhappy camper over something they couldn’t control.” He hadn’t known that what he’d said was true until the minute it came out of his mouth, and he rushed to cover over the unintentional honesty with more venom.

“But color me surprised; not only is she not grateful, she thinks she’s gonna punish me for the situation she got herself into! But it doesn’t work that way, pet. We made a deal, you and me, and I’ll see you honor it whether you like it or not. You need me to keep the bit safe and a roof over her head. I’ve given you that. I need you because the blood we can get easily is wild pig and deer shit. It’ll do the trick, but tastes like mud compared to the good stuff. You want me to keep your girl safe, and to do that, I need to be able to feed reliably from a healthy source. That’s you, sweetheart! I won’t even tell you that you got a choice because you don’t, but I can tell you that I can feed easy or I can feed hard. They’ll both hurt, but if I have to force or restrain you, it’ll hurt a hell of a lot worse.” 

With that, he let her go and backed away a step to let her breathe. He watched her face closely as it shifted from enraged to argumentative to resigned. She hung her head; her shoulders slumped and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

“You’re right.” Her words were so quiet that a normal human never would have heard them. 

Spike arched an eyebrow, his tone wary when he asked, “About which part?” 

She met his eyes, suddenly looking very young again; a visceral difference from the warrior queen she’d been moments before. She appeared very tired. 

“Most of it, really." She sighed and stuck out her hand. "Hi, I'm Buffy, the girl with trust issues who doesn’t play well with others." 

When he didn't reciprocate the gesture, she withdrew her hand and hugged herself again. "You’re right - I did make a deal and it's not fair to expect you to hold up your end if I don’t hold up mine. And you’re right again - what I did was petty and disrespectful. I was mad at the situation and mad at you for being my only option.”

She swallowed thickly and continued. “And you definitely didn’t have to agree to this. Hell, our own ‘kind’ was all ready to give us the ax, and I’m still not sure if that would have been a metaphor or not. Regardless of your motivations, there wasn’t any expectation for you to take us on like this or make us comfortable in any way. But you did. You being a vampire, a demon, doesn’t mean that you didn’t do that. And I should be grateful because I know that if you hadn’t, she wouldn’t be tucked in safe and warm tonight. And more important, if something happens to me, I know Dawn will be safe with you. God only knows why, but the kid is already convinced you’re the best thing since sliced bread.” 

A small smile flickered on her face before she went on. “So... I’ll keep my part too. I’m no welsher -whatever that means- either. And I’ll try to do better...with the whole being a bitch thing.” 

Spike was uncomfortable with her candid honesty and said nothing. Honesty and vulnerability were weaknesses, and she’d offered them up to him like she trusted him not to use them against her. Sure, he’d been honest too, but it had been to scare her, to intimidate her, and he’d covered it as quickly and seamlessly as he could. Her honesty felt like a peace offering; he wasn’t sure what to do with it. 

When he didn’t respond right away, she shifted nervously; a light blush colored her cheeks and she fixed her gaze on her shoes “So, what now? You probably...do you need to...feed tonight?” 

Yes. No. Hunting and having animal blood tonight wouldn’t kill him; after the intensely emotional day, it might be safer to do it that way. But if he let her put it off now, she might continue to do so. Humans were predictable that way; well, just about any living thing was predictable that way. Better to rip off the Band-Aid, so to speak, so that she’d really see all that she’d agreed to.

“Yeah, I do.”

She chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully and shifted from side to side. She reminded him of a rabbit sniffing the air outside its burrow, trying to decide if it was safe to come out or if it should go to ground again. Like any good predator, he would wait. 

Her deep sigh and the way she squared her shoulders told him what she’d decided on. “Can I ask you some questions about that?”

He shrugged, “Sure. Couldn’t hurt, I s’pose. But if you try to touch me like the Niblet did when **she** asked questions, I’ll bite your bloody fingers off.” 

Buffy turned a bit green but still followed him back to the main room to the kitchen table. They sat stiffly in the hard, wooden chairs on either end, keeping several feet of space between them. 

When she didn't speak right away, he felt himself getting impatient again and began bouncing his leg. "So? What do you wanna know?" 

Her eyes shot back and forth, obviously caught in an internal debate. When she finally met his eyes, she seemed to have come to some sort of resolution. "Okay. So, first off, how often are you going to need to...you know, feed from me?" 

He thought for a moment before shrugging. "Don't rightly know just yet. As a rule of thumb, human blood lasts you longer than animal blood - and the healthier the person the better. Need more when you're hurt and need to heal; need less when you and your prey are both fit. As I said, I can still get some of the animal shit by hunting, but it's the difference between a five-course meal and stale fast food. You’ll live, but won't be at your best. Just pulling something out of my arse, but I probably could get by with a short feed a few times a week. Couldn't take much at a time, but it'd be better than taking a large amount less often and hoping there's no danger in the off times."

She nodded. It made sense - eating a small salad every day would probably have a better effect on your body than eating nothing but fast food all day and having a day of fruits and veggies every two weeks or so. Thinking of her next question, she weighed whether or not she really wanted to know the answer. She decided that she did. “Okay. That makes sense...but if I’m going to be” -she still couldn’t quite get past the word without pause- “fed from several times a week...how bad does it hurt? Does it have to hurt? Don’t you have magical vampire powers that can make it hurt less or something?”

Spike couldn’t help the short bark of laughter. Christ, she was young. His tone was teasing and amused when he answered. “This in’t some dime paperback bodice ripper! What I’ve got are essentially blades coming out my mouth! It sure as hell don’t feel like bein’ kissed by butterflies. We’re predators, luv. You think the lion has a way of hurting the gazelle less?” 

“I think lions can go in the sunlight and don’t rise from the dead stronger and with a taste for other lion blood.”

He huffed in annoyance. “You know what I’m trying to say! We get people here sometimes who think it’s all dark and romantic like a bloody switchblade is gonna hurt less in your gut if the person stabbing you likes you better. ‘S not how it works.”

Well, that was disappointing. She’d known, of course, in her head that vampire fangs equaled sharp pointy things going into areas that did not like sharp, pointy things, but she hadn’t processed the sheer longevity of the pain she’d signed up for. She shouldn’t be surprised, she thought. The universe hadn’t tossed her many favors recently, so of course she’d be paying for the “good luck” of their current situation with ritual pain. Buffy was about to comment on that very thing, but Spike wasn’t done. 

“Now, that being said, there’s things you can do that help. Some people get high, some drink till they go numb, and some fuck till they can’t feel anything but the pleasure. Some even like the pain - gets ‘em off. The idea is to get the endorphins goin’ in your noggin and distract the body from the pain.” He offered her a look that suggested he might find one or more of those plans desirable. 

Buffy looked at him, mouth agape. Incredulously, she sputtered, “So what? My choices are pain, drug abuse, alcoholism, or being a gigantic ho?” 

Spike simply smirked. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it. Although your choices are a bit more...limited, shall we say. Ain’t feeding on junkie or a drunk on a regular basis. Does funny things to the blood and I don’t need a second hand high when I’m supposed to be on my feet.” 

She deadpanned. “Spike...I can’t believe I even have to say these words, but here you go: I’m not sleeping with you. Move on.”

Presenting himself as the picture of indifference, he shrugged and leaned back against his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “Suit yourself. No skin off my nose either way; I still get fed. Where you want it then? Can bite just about anywhere over a major vein or artery.” 

Buffy shrunk back a bit in her seat. He was essentially asking her, “Hey Buff, where you wanna get stabbed tonight?” Which was really a choice without any good options. No winning to be had for Buffy! Because of course. 

“I guess...I guess here.” She hesitantly stuck one of her wrists out towards him, uncomfortably shifting in her seat. 

Well, that was a bit disappointing. Not that he blamed her for not wanting his fangs anywhere near her throat, but still. A bloke could hope, couldn’t he? Nodding in agreement, he stood up and made his way to kneel in front of her. When he gripped one of her arms tightly in his hands, she let out a small gasp.

“Wha-what are you doing?” she asked, giving him that rabbit-scared look again. 

He huffed, frowning as he eyes her wrist. “When I bite down, your instinct is going to be to pull away. You do that when my fangs are in, it could tear something important. ‘S better for me to hold you still so we don’t have any accidents or hurt you more.

She surprised him by giving him a wry smile. “Going to do that anyway, I thought.” 

He chuckled, “Well, probably, but at least this way you don’t run the risk of getting your bloody veins sliced and diced, yeah?” 

She nodded and took a long, deep breath in and out. “Okay. I’m ready.” 

Spike scooted close enough to pull her arm up against his lips. He took a deep breath in, noting her pounding heart and rushing blood. _So close...so close now._

“Easy now, pet. Just breathe.” His voice was low and soothing, and Buffy tried to do what he said.

He purposefully let out a breath as he lowered his head, wanting to give her all the advance warning that he could. When he allowed his features to shift and the demon to come forward, he noticed her flinch and waited for what felt like ages for her to relax again. Finally, when he felt her muscles soften, he bit down. She gave a short cry and instinctively tried to pull her wrist away, but he held firm. When the first taste of blood hit his tongue, his eyes closed. She was sweet and sharp and better than anything he’d had in years. 

He made himself count the pulls, feeling her tremble and clench a fist against her thigh. When he pulled his fangs back, he gently licked at the bite, soothing the sting as best he could until the bleeding stopped. That should have been the end of it. He should have pulled back and made some snarky remark about the “Buffy-taste” in his mouth, but he surprised them both by placing a faint, gentle kiss on the bite mark before slowly rising to his feet. 

When Buffy pulled her arm away and looked up at him, Spike could see the tear tracks on her cheeks; they made him feel strangely uncomfortable. He felt the odd urge to pull her close and comfort her, but quickly shook it off. There was no need to snuggle the girl; he’d done what he could and hadn’t hurt her any more than was necessary. No reason to cry at all, really. She’d get over herself soon, he was sure. 

Buffy couldn’t hold his gaze; it still hurt. God, it had hurt. He’d said it would, but she hadn’t expected...that. It had taken everything in her not to kick and scratch and punch until he let her go. If his hands hadn’t been iron shackles around her arm, she might have tried. She’d tried to focus on her breathing and purposefully kept the muscles in her hands and arms soft. When he’d pulled out, she’d been surprised at his gentleness. Once he had what he needed, he could have just backed away and walked off. He could have left her to nurse her pain alone. But he hadn’t. She tried to question the kiss, but her exhausted brain refused to follow that line of wandering down its neverending rabbit trails. She needed to sleep now. 

Buffy’s head spun and she wobbled a bit when she stood. He hadn’t taken much, but the stress of the experience left her unstable on her feet. When she felt his hand at her elbow, holding her steady, she finally looked at him again. His face was clear and expressionless, only the faint twitch of his hands against his thighs to indicate that he wasn’t quite as calm as he looked. When she was stable, he let go and moved away.

“You should get some rest, pet. You look tired.” His voice was tense and he was trying too hard to look nonchalant. He needed to get out and fast. Needed to get far away from the itch under his skin when he thought of her trading her blood for the little one’s safety. 

“Oh, right. Guess I will. Thanks.” She staggered towards the room where Dawn was sleeping. She stumbled back when his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Startled green eyes met blue and widened more when he mumbled, “Buffy...Thank you. I’ll keep my end.”

Buffy nodded slowly; she didn’t have the brain power to review everything they’d settled and not settled tonight, but she appreciated that he was reaffirming his intent to keep Dawn safe. She guessed that made this worth it. 

“Yeah. You too, Spike...Thank you. You could have made it a lot worse, but instead you -”

He cut her off. “Yeah. Night now, luv. I’ll be back later.” 

He was out the door before she’d even realized that he’d let go of her. 


	10. Trifolium repens (White Clover)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at remembering to post over here - so this one is almost a week late! Please accept my apologies and this chapter!

**_Trifolium repens_ ** **(White Clover)**

He wasn’t going to make it much longer. He knew it. She knew it. The only question that remained was what he would take to his metaphorical grave and what she’d pry from him with her careful artistry. He was determined that today he would hold strong. At this point, all it would take for him to find his freedom would be one wrong twist of her knife or claws. If he pushed the right buttons, perhaps he could coax her into making that one mistake. She was almost always coldly calm and collected, but every so often he’d see cracks in the careful veneer of her human mask. If he could just hold out long enough—

The door creaked; like Pavlov’s dog, his body’s response was instantaneous. His muscles tightened and twitched in fear, and his heart began to pound. He prepared as best he could; his lips formed a useless prayer to one of the many gods and demons he’d prostrated himself before over the years. His head jerked violently upward when a voice responded to him. Not one of the gods, but not her either. Someone new had entered, and his plans of death crumbled half-formed in his scattered mind as a new gaze met his from across the room.

It was warm now... suddenly so warm. He was no longer in danger, and a blissful smile broke out across his cracked lips. _No need to fear_ , a voice inside whispered. _You are safe. You are free. No need to hide like a naughty boy caught with Mummy’s biscuits anymore. There is no more pain._

No, no more pain. His thoughts swirled in a haze. He grinned drunkenly, hardly noticing that his hands were now free and hanging at his sides. The voice was low and soothing; the caress of a cool breeze on a moonlit night. He didn’t need to hold back. It was perfectly safe to tell her what she needed to know. He was safe.

_Wait...no. Musn’t tell them — what? Why not?_ His thoughts fractured like brittle bones; they splintered between cold clarity and the warm embrace of her suggestions. 

_It is safe now, sweet boy. You need not worry ever again. All will be well. See? I’ll show you. Pick up the knife._

Like magic, the dagger had appeared before him. Ah yes - just what he needed. 

_There’s a good boy. Now, look at your hand. We’ve no need of those fingers, do we? All we need is to give her what she wants. Give her what she needs. If you’d just cut off one of those useless fingers, she’d be happy._

_Yes… Yes, he didn’t need them anymore. They really didn’t serve any purpose when all he needed was his mouth to tell her all that she needed to know. But wait… wouldn’t it hurt?_ Again and again, his thoughts crashed together like waves against a rock. His grip on the knife loosened for a moment. 

_Go on, now. It’s all right, I promise. Just cut the finger off and all will be well again. Do it. It’s only getting in the way, so you must do it!_

When the fog of his brain cleared, it took a moment for him to notice the pain; then there was nothing else. In one hand, he held the bloody knife; on the floor in front of him lay his useless thumb. When the synapses in his brain finally registered what he’d done, he opened his mouth to scream. 

A few feet from the howling creature he had become, the woman smiled in delight.

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Dawn stretched out and let out a deep, contented sigh. The sun was bright and warm on her face, and the long grass beneath her made a cozy, comfortable bed. She rolled to her belly and began to count the leaves of the clover plants around her. Though she hadn’t found one yet, Dawn was determined to find a four-leaf clover before she and Buffy left the meadow. Buffy said they were lucky, and Dawn figured that a little extra luck was a good thing for anyone. 

Really though, Dawn already felt pretty lucky. She looked over at Buffy, who was meticulously stringing stems of flowers together for their daisy chain, and grinned. Dawn plucked one of the little white clover buds from the patch and popped the stem in her mouth to chew on. As she listened to Buffy’s muttering and occasional cursing at the string of plants, she giggled quietly and returned to her search. Yeah, she was lucky. 

For example, Dawn knew that she was lucky that Buffy had been the one to find her. Aside from nearly stabbing her in the log, Buffy had protected her the whole time they’d been together, which she really hadn’t had to do. Dawn remembered the way the other grown-ups talked after Buffy found her; she hadn’t been sure what would be scarier: that they’d take her, or that they’d leave her behind. Since then, Buffy had stayed with her and promised that she’d keep Dawn safe no matter what.

Even though Dawn knew that Buffy wanted to talk about what had happened before they’d found her, she kept trying to put it off. Anytime that Buffy tried to bring it up, Dawn gave her one of her ‘innocent little girl’ smiles and changed the subject to something more interesting. Like Spike! Nothing got Buffy to shut up and switch gears faster right now than bringing up Spike. The last time she’d tried, the night before, Dawn had gotten her to forget her question by asking why there had been a big pile of empty bottles in front of Spike’s door and where had they gone? Before that, it had been awkward nature questions like, “Buffy, what should you do if you find a bear pooping when you’re out in the woods?” Oh yeah, Dawn was good at changing the subject. 

People seemed to think that because Dawn was a kid, she didn’t notice things like people whispering about her. But she noticed lots of things. She noticed that Willow had put a pinch of something white and grainy in Tara’s teacup whenever she came in, and it had made Tara smile. She noticed that the big vampire, Angel, had looked at Buffy really hard when Buffy wasn’t paying attention. Dawn had held Buffy’s hand a little tighter and glared at him even though he hadn’t seen her. She had noticed that when she touched Spike’s bumpy forehead at the clinic, he had leaned in a little bit, like maybe it felt nice. Sure, he’d growled at her too, but she forgave him. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone touching her teeth either. 

Mostly she noticed that people looked at her weird; like maybe she wasn’t the same as them. She’d understood when Buffy found her that the others thought that maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe there was. She didn’t even know how she’d gotten there. If she ever really thought about it - which she didn’t - she’d wonder about that more. About how all of her memories before that morning - when she’d woken up, seen all the blood and dead people, and hid - were kind of hazy like a dream. Maybe she’d hit her head? Well, whatever was wrong, she knew others noticed it too. 

Not everyone was bad, though. Some people were actually really nice to her. Jessie had let Dawn pet her belly until the baby kicked when they’d stopped to rest one morning. Willow had made her some yummy tea and given her some strawberries at the clinic. Tara had stroked her hair when Buffy had left for a few minutes the other day and Dawn had pretended to be sleeping. Wes had held her hand and made her laugh while Buffy had gone to talk to Angel. Spike had let her talk about her adventures and smiled like she wasn’t just some annoying kid. No, not everyone was bad. 

Dawn understood why they were staying with Spike. Buffy had explained and it made sense, sort of. If someone were extra sick, Buffy probably wouldn’t have let her go near them either. So, she guessed it made sense that she had to stay away from other people for a while - even if she did really want to play with the other kids she saw on their way into camp. Buffy was nice to her but sometimes looked at her funny when Dawn asked her to play. Like maybe she didn’t really know how. That was weird - who didn’t know how to play? Maybe she’d ask Spike to play tag when he got up tonight. He had walked really fast when he’d brought them to the cabin; she bet he’d be really good at tag.

“Aha! Take a look, Dawnie! I did it!” 

Buffy’s triumphant tone brought Dawn back to earth. Buffy held the circlet of flowers between her hands and grinned at Dawn. “Here, Princess Dawn: your tiara!” 

Dawn giggled and sat up so that Buffy could put the ‘tiara’ on her head. When it was settled in her hair, Dawn stood up and began to spin in circles through the clover. As she twirled, she threw her head back and laughed as much as she wanted. When she stopped and flopped heavily back into the grass, she sighed happily; then her eyes widened in surprise. There! Right in front of her! A four-leaf clover!

Dawn carefully plucked the clover and spun between two fingers. She considered it carefully, looking for any outward signs of its luckiness. She couldn’t find anything, but she guessed maybe it was magic. Dawn looked over at Buffy sprawled in her own patch of grass. She opened her mouth to ask Buffy about why clovers were lucky, but changed her mind and closed it again. She decided to tuck the clover into her shorts pocket and keep it to herself for now. Maybe she’d give it to Buffy for extra luck later. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

It had been a peaceful day so far; enjoyable to the point that Buffy found herself humming as she strolled the path back to the main camp. It was only a ten minute walk one way, but Buffy found herself enjoying the moments of solitary peace when she went to collect their daily meals. She’d left Dawn resting in their room, again with instructions to leave Spike be. The little girl had agreed, but Buffy knew it was a matter of time before obeying that particular request became boring. She wondered if Spike would be more forgiving of Dawn waking him up than he’d been of her; then again, Dawn probably wouldn’t launch shoes at his head. That would help her chances. 

As Buffy walked into the main encampment, she noticed a few nearby men and women giving her suspicious looks out of the corners of their eyes. She recognized one of them as having been part of the ‘lynch mob’ who’d been very vocal about their feelings about Dawn’s presence. Buffy figured that the best thing that she could do would be to ignore them, do what she came to do, and leave. 

Unfortunately, the others were not of the same mind. One of the women approached her while the others looked on. The woman placed herself directly in Buffy’s way, refusing to be ignored. When Buffy looked up and met the woman’s eyes, she was surprised at the cold hatred within. She’d expected anger and fear, but she didn’t think she’d ever been hated before. Before Buffy could even open her mouth to speak, the woman began her tirade. 

“What do you think you’re doing here? You’re supposed to be holed up with that Typhoid Mary of a child, not wandering around! You could be infecting us all just by being here!” 

Buffy shook her head in disbelief and said, “What are you talking about? I’m not infecting anybody. And Dawn’s not even sick! She’s following the stupid quarantine and staying away from everyone. What more do you want?”

The woman glared in response, her eyes swimming in unshed tears. “What I want is for you and that girl to get out of here. We were safe here! My babies were safe and now you think you have the right to bring that sickness here? We lost my Dan to that damned disease and I had to get my little ones here by myself all the way from Nevada. We risked everything to get here, but I did it so they could be safe in this messed up world! And now you bring her here knowing that she could be sick?” She spat at Buffy’s feet and clenched her fists at her side. Tears began to spill down her cheeks, and it only seemed to make her angrier.

Buffy felt torn between the urge to get back in the woman’s face and rage in Dawn’s defense and to apologize for her pain. She opened her mouth to respond, but a new voice cut her off. 

“Amy, that’s enough. We talked about this.” Xander walked up from behind Buffy and placed himself between the two women. 

The woman, Amy, turned her hate-filled gaze towards Xander. “No, Harris: you talked about it. I didn’t get to! No one asked me if I cared that her little girl’s life was being counted as more important than my boys!”

“Amy, that’s not-”

“No! You wanna talk? Let’s talk!” Her voice cracked with her effort to stem the flow of her tears. “Not a person here hasn’t lost someone to the blood sickness. We know it kills. We **know** this! But this girl shows up, and suddenly her family is more important than mine? She gets to waltz around like it doesn’t matter if we get sick or not? It’s not right, Xander. You know it’s not right! What if my boys die too? What if I die?” Her fire depleted, Amy collapsed to the ground; her body shook with wrenching sobs. 

Buffy looked at the woman who’d spat at her feet and found herself kneeling down to put a hand on her shoulder. Suddenly, all she could see was herself snarling at anyone who’d suggested leaving Dawn behind. When Amy looked up and shook her off with a glare, Buffy looked up to Xander for help. 

Xander sighed and knelt down as well. “Amy, you know I wouldn’t have agreed to the quarantine if I thought there was any immediate danger to you or anyone else. I know that rumors fly and it’s easy to be scared, but I need you to trust me - trust us. Willow and Tara both felt confident in the plan. You trust them, right? You don’t think they’d want to see you and the boys hurt, do you?” 

He waited until Amy looked back at him and nodded slowly. “I know what people are saying. I know that stories make rounds fast, but most of them are just that - stories. And I need you to hear me say this: no one here thinks that Buffy’s family is more important than yours. But on the flip side, your family isn’t more important than hers. That little girl deserves safety and security just as much as your boys, doesn’t she? Wouldn’t you want us to consider other options if this happened to one of them?” 

Amy glanced towards Buffy; her eyes had softened just the slightest bit, and she nodded quietly. “Okay, Xander.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’ll try to...I’ll try.”

Xander helped Amy to her feet, and the woman slowly turned to walk away. When she reached her group of friends and was out of earshot, Xander let out a heavy sigh and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. 

Buffy looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “How did you do that?”

Xander gave a wry grin - an odd look for a man she’d seen give such genuine smiles. “Oh, a lot of luck, probably. She’s scared, Buffy. Lots of angry people are really scared people who don’t want anybody else to know they’re scared. It’s easier to be angry. Easier to hate. Easier to blame others for what you’re afraid of.” His good eye clouded over for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. 

When Buffy reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder, he seemed to snap out of whatever funk he’d gone into. He shook his head as if to clear it and gave Buffy one of his boyish smiles. “C’mon now,” he said, “I’ll bet you came to get some grub. Let’s go see what they’re going to poison us with today.” 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

It hadn’t been poisoned by any stretch, but Buffy found herself eyeing the bowl of soup she’d been given suspiciously after her first bite. She didn’t think it was supposed to...jiggle in quite that way. Across from her, Xander dug into the ‘soup’ like it was fresh water in a desert. 

“So,” — he swallowed a bite and cleared his throat— “how’s Spike treating you and Dawn?”

Buffy frowned, thinking of the events of the previous days. That was a good question. When he flip-flopped between cursing and intimidation and things like kisses after his bite, she wasn’t sure how to answer.

“He...we’re doing all right. Making the best of it, I guess.” 

Xander nodded in understanding, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before speaking again. “I think the fact that you haven’t killed each other in the first 48 hours is a good sign. Vampires can be hard to be close to sometimes, but not all of them are completely horrible.”

Buffy suddenly remembered the tanned, obnoxious vampire who’d met them at the gates when they’d arrived. “You’ve made friends with some of them, haven’t you?”

Midway through another bite, Xander laughed and spewed a small chunk of what Buffy suspected was once meat across the table. “What, you mean Axel?”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah. You guys seemed pretty friendly when we first got here.” 

“I guess friendly is a good word for it. Ax would tell you he’s just making sure my guard is down in case he ever feels munchy.” 

“So you aren’t friends?” Buffy asked. 

“No, friends is as good a word as any. Guess I just hadn’t thought of it that way. Before this place, I wouldn’t have seen myself as the type to have a vampire for a ‘friend’.” 

“How come?”

Xander shrugged. “Well, first off, they’re not supposed to be real, are they? Monsters are supposed to stay in monster movies where you can laugh at how stupid the fake blood looks. Personally, I’d have been happy to leave them there. But then the whole world blew up and suddenly things like vampires, demons, and werewolves aren’t just bad Halloween costumes; they’re real and can kill you. Not the sort of ‘thing’ you want to consider a friend, you know?” 

His raised finger quotes around one of the words caused Buffy to ask, “What do you mean by that?”

“What else would you call them? They aren’t animals - even if they act like it sometimes. They aren’t people. Things is the only other word most people would think of.”

“Most people...but not you?”

Xander looked away for a moment, and Buffy noticed his hand clench tightly around the spoon he held. “Not anymore. For a long time, sure. For a while there, I held pretty tightly to the belief that the demons and others here were less than us because they weren’t human. I was afraid of them, of what they could do, but it was easier to look down on them or ignore them than to admit that. But I think there are some things that you can’t go through without being willing to see a different side of things. Well, that or go completely blind, I guess.” He gestured to the eyepatch with a self-deprecating smile. 

“How...how did it happen? If you don’t mind my asking?” 

“So a troll walks into a bar and—stop me if you’ve heard this one!”

He laughed at Buffy’s baffled expression. “Okay, sorry. You did know trolls were real too, right? Okay, just checking. It was about eight months ago. We’d heard that there was something big causing trouble just north of here. We naturally assumed it was a bear or something; not too much out here bigger than them. Well, we can’t have something as big as a bear too close to camp for obvious reasons, so a few of us and a handful of vamps went out one night to see if we could find it and, y’know, persuade it to go elsewhere. Well, that’s what **I** thought we were doing. Apparently the vamps figured they’d go along and find themselves a giant bear-shake.” 

Buffy’s expression of disgust made Xander laugh as he spoke. “I know. Believe me, I know. Well, anyway, we found what we were looking for; only, it wasn’t a bear. It was this huge, ugly looking bearded guy with horns. He thought it was fun to swing his giant hammer around and knock over trees and just generally scare everything in a ten mile radius. We probably would have let him be if not for the fact that he took out some of the planting fields we’d started the spring before. So we charged him.” 

Xander shook his head and chuckled. “God, we were stupid. The vamps knew better and just kinda stood back while we went all Rambo on him. We get in there and he just starts swinging away, knocking us around like we’re nothing. He’d just hit one of the other guys hard and sent him flying into a tree. I had watched way too many underdog hero movies as a kid and thought I’d run in to try and get him away from the other guy. Well, I got his attention. I was too close to risk my gun, so I took a swipe at his gut with my hunting knife. All that did was piss him off.”

Buffy laid a hand over one of his when Xander paused for a moment. He gave her a small smile and cleared his throat. “Before I could jump back, he picked me up with both hands and shook me like I was a rag doll. He made some comment about humans being like grapes and stuck his thumb into my eye. I don’t remember too much after that, really. Must have passed out because the next thing I know, I’m on the ground staring into a dead troll’s face. He was missing most of his neck. The boys told me later that when he started in for my other eye, Axel jumped him and basically tore him to shreds.”

“Was he trying to save you? That seems a bit...heroic for a vampire, doesn’t it?” 

Xander laughed and gave a lopsided grin. “Well, to hear him tell it, he’d always wondered if trolls tasted how they smelled, and I just happened to give him a chance to find out. But he was the one who carried me back, bleeding eye socket and all, and he came by every night I was in the clinic to see if I had ‘kicked it yet’. We don’t exactly sit around making friendship bracelets, but we’ve had each other’s backs a few times since then. I trust him about as much as I can.”

Buffy stared at the table in front of her, lost in thought. Giles had taught her about vampires, of course, but so far the ones at the camp were nothing like she would have expected. Giles had given her books written by Council members who described a vampire as a snarling beast with no capacity for anything but blood lust and deception. She must have missed the chapter about the ones who saved a human or...or kissed a bite mark when he knew she’d been hurt. 

For a moment, Buffy had forgotten that she really wasn’t close to Xander; she didn’t really know him all that well. He had shared some personal things with her today, but she wasn’t sure if she should admit her own concerns. But...she needed to ask someone. Without looking up, Buffy asked, “Do you think they care about others like we do? Can they?” 

Xander thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I think they aren’t human, so it might not be just like we do. Doesn’t mean they can’t care in their own way. I dunno. I think I trust Axel to have my back in just about any battle; but would I trust him to hold my bleeding neck wound closed - blood oath or no? Probably not. He is what he is just like I am what I am.” 

“Oh.”

Xander looked at Buffy closely. “You’re worried about this thing with Spike?”

She nodded. “I wonder if I can trust him around Dawn. Hell, I wonder if I can trust him around me. He’s...so very not human, but then sometimes he does things that are almost sweet or almost caring, and I wonder. But then you say that even though you trust Axel, you still wouldn’t trust him to be able to hold back if you were hurt —”

“Now, hold on.” Xander held a hand up to stop her. “I said I probably wouldn’t trust him in that one situation. But keep in mind, he’s already had that shot and didn’t so much as tongue my eye socket on the way back to camp. So he could surprise me. I just wouldn’t want to take that risk if I didn’t have to. You’ve also got a very different situation with Spike. I wouldn’t want to tempt Axel with feeding off me in case he couldn’t stop and we’d both be hurt. Spike is getting to feed as a part of this deal with you, and I’m assuming he already has. So you know that his control isn’t a problem. Besides, he needs you in a way Axel doesn’t need me. It’s kinda like one of those old fashioned marriage deals, you know?”

“Say what now?” Buffy’s tone was incredulous and her lip pulled back in distaste.

“You know, how they used to do it. Marriage was a contract for protection more than love. Man finds woman. Woman needs man for protection; man needs woman because even cavemen probably couldn’t fold socks or make anything more complicated than a grilled grass sandwich. Man does business with woman’s family and gets a wife and maybe a goat as a bonus. Although...I’m not sure if you’re the wife or the goat in this analogy. Maybe both?”

Buffy let out an indignant “Hey!!”, and Xander paused and smiled sheepishly. 

“Never mind. Definitely not the goat! Most definitely not the farm beast to be worked until they’re old and get put in the soup pot.” 

Buffy gave him an icy glare until he began to laugh good naturedly. It felt good to joke with someone - even if she was the joke. 

She gave him a rare, genuine smile. “Thanks, Xander. For...well, for everything I guess. This was...nice. Kind of strange, but nice.” 

Xander let out a sharp laugh. “So said all my high school girlfriends. Or at least, that’s what they would have said if I’d had any girlfriends in high school!” He winked playfully, and she laughed too. “But seriously, no problem! This world is too crazy to try to do on our own. Feel free to share a bowl of soup-jello with me anytime. Next time I’ll tell you all my best jokes!” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and the action caused his eyepatch to wobble oddly against his forehead; which had Buffy giggling into her hand. 

She rose to her feet, and he followed suit. “I guess I’d better start getting back. Dawn’s probably pretty hungry by now, and I need to make sure she isn’t doing something like drawing on the walls or using Spike’s coat as a cape.”

Xander grinned and nodded amiably. “Sure, Buffy. I’ll see you later then, okay?”

Buffy considered for a short moment. Was she really planning for future conversations with people? Conversations that didn’t center around survival? Yeah...maybe she was. 

“Sure, Xander. See you soon!”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

His thoughts whirled as he marched through the brush in the general direction of the vampire’s cabin. He’d show them. They’d all been bamboozled by the little blonde bitch and her plague rat of a kid, but he’d show them the truth! He’d told them — when they’d found the girl, he’d said that there was no way anyone could have survived that unless there was something seriously wrong. And now they knew he was right, but all that little hussy had had to do was bat her pretty blue eyes and pitch a fit, and they’d given right in. 

So he’d tried to get others on board. He’d made sure everyone knew the hows, wheres, and whatfors of how the girl was found. Hadn’t skimped on the details in the least, no sir! People had a right to know what was living with them in their very own homes. If it hadn’t been for that big vampire in charge, he probably could have convinced them by now. Stupid asshole! Just as easily swayed by the pretty blonde and her manipulative ways as anyone. He’d thought vampires were supposed to be immune to human temptation or some shit like that. 

He’d thought maybe he’d gotten through to the woman, Amy, this morning. She’d even hauled off and yelled and spat at the bitch when she waltzed into camp, and he’d thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d get lucky and the girl would do something drastic like punch Amy’s lights out. That’d show them her true colors; what he’d been saying along: that Buffy was unstable and needed to leave just as much as the little one. 

But no! That Harris fellow had just **had** to interfere and get everyone calmed down. Well, no matter. He’d take matters into his own hands. That girl was dangerous and needed to be dealt with. He would have been happy for her to live if she’d gone away, but now he had no choice. He needed to be quick though. The woman was still in the main camp with Harris and the vampire would be asleep at this time of day. That left the girl unprotected and alone and gave him the best chance for success. 

He gripped the shotgun in his hand as if to assure himself that it was still there. As he made his way through the forest brush and saw the cabin in the distance, the thought repeated over and over.

He had no choice. 


	11. Beta vulgaris (Beetroot)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have forgotten to post the next chapter last week...oops. Most of my activity for this story is on Elysian Fields, so sometimes that site gets more of my attention. Thank you to my commenters and readers!

**_Beta vulgaris_ ** **(Beetroot)**

Dawn had been lying happily on the floor of the cabin when the first shot came through the window. The small book she’d found on a low shelf and was leafing through flew out of her hands as glass shattered across the main room; old, battered pages drifted through the air for a moment as the motion tore them from their fading binding. Dawn dove behind the easy chair in the same moment that she let out an ear-shattering scream. When she stopped to breathe, she heard the sound of someone muttering curses outside the house.

Spike woke with a start to Dawn’s scream. In the split second it took him to open his eyes, his other senses went on high alert. Outside his door, Dawn’s heart pounded in her chest, and the smell of gun smoke permeated the air. Momentarily thankful that he’d thought to wear pants to bed in case Buffy decided to pull another morning stunt, he’d rolled out of bed and barreled towards the door. When he threw his bedroom door open, Spike took in the scene in front of him. 

Not ten feet away, Dawn crouched with hands over her head behind a chair. Across the room, pages from one of his books lay scattered in the sunlight; the curtains that had previously been pulled hung limp and shredded, allowing large beams of light to cut across the floor. He looked past the damaged window, catching sight of an unfamiliar man scanning the width of the main room and adjusting the hold of his gun against his shoulder. 

When the man found what he was looking for and took aim, Spike didn’t hesitate. Using his preternatural speed, he dove towards Dawn and rolled away from the chair just as the second blast took out a large chunk of the chair’s side. Though they made it safely behind one of the kitchen counters, their escape took him straight through one of the wide strips of sunlight, and Spike couldn’t hold back a pained hiss as his whole body reacted to the sharp burn of the rays. Dawn looked up from his arms with wide, frightened eyes as he grimaced, but there was no time to stop to check for damage or to soothe her. 

Spike looked up in time to see the man ejecting the shells from the previous shot and quickly weighed his options. The sunbeams covered a great deal of the main room now, making it almost impossible for him to get closer to the intruder. Even if he could, there was still the oath to consider. The spell required the vampires to swear an oath of no harm to the humans of the camp, but none of the vampires had felt self-destructive enough to test just how specific that term might be. 

Spike had no idea if there would be consequences in matters of self-defense. As he looked down at the little girl quaking in his arms, Spike realized that it didn’t matter; he’d dust before he let her get hurt. He wondered if that should bother him more than it did. 

In spite of the sound of Dawn’s frantic heartbeat pounding loudly near his ears, Spike could make out the labored breaths and the sharp, sour odor of fear from the man. It was only a matter of time before they’d run out of things to hide behind, or the man would run out of shells. Spike hoped for the latter, obviously, and glanced around to plan their next move. If only he could get the man inside somehow.

“Vampire! Don’t have no trouble with you! I’m just here for the girl - she’s too dangerous to be livin’ around us. You know it too, don’tcha? Just send her on out and I’ll be quick.”

Dawn let out a quiet sob against his chest, and Spike rubbed a hand over her head soothingly before calling out to the man. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t quite trust the word of a man shooting at me in my own home! Why should I believe you?” 

He purposefully lowered his voice as he spoke so that the man would have to move closer to hear him properly; and he did. Spike heard the creak of the door and the crunch of glass as the man slowly made his way inside. 

The man’s heartbeat thumped frantically in his chest, and Spike felt his demon react; his mouth began to water at the thought of what would happen if he could just get his prey into the shadows. 

The man spoke again in what Spike assumed was meant to be a calming tone. “I don’t have any quarrel with you. You can’t want the rat livin’ with you any more than anyone else. You just hand her over, and we both get what we want.” 

The sound of the man’s boots scraping over the glass on the floor let Spike know exactly where he was in the room. Still too far to risk it. A little further, then. He silently motioned to Dawn to quietly move to the other end of the kitchen before speaking again. 

“Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say I don’t want the brat around; only really wanted the older one for blood anyway. So if I agree, hand you the kid, and go on my merry way, what’s to keep you from offin’ me afterward and pinnin’ this whole mess on me?” 

As quiet as the man tried to be, Spike could hear his breath quicken as he shifted the gun in his hands. He obviously knew where Spike was, but there was no indication that he’d heard Dawn move. As his prey inched closer, Spike took a deep breath and let his demon come forward. He looked at Dawn from across the kitchen, gave her as reassuring of a smile as he could in his demon face, and gestured for her to cover her eyes. 

The man’s voice had dropped to a whisper, and Spike could see his shadow around the corner from where he was hiding. “Well, sir, I guess you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?” 

Before the man had a chance to blink, Spike pulled him into the shadowed part of the room and ripped the gun from his hands. The sight of the vampire’s feral features sent the man into a frenzied panic; another sharp odor hit the air, and Spike knew without having to look down that his prey had gone and pissed himself in fear. The predator within crowed with pride, reveling in the primal sound of furiously rushing blood so close to his fangs. He opened his jaws slowly, a growl reverberating through his chest as he lowered his head. It was dramatic, he knew, but Spike wanted the bastard to feel the same fear he’d brought on Dawn before he died. 

The tiny whimper from behind him broke Spike out of his feral haze. He turned his head enough to see Dawn still crouched down where he’d sent her; her head buried beneath her arms as she bent over her lap. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the quiet sobs she made. His grip on the man loosened for just a moment. 

It was all his prey needed. The moment Spike looked away towards the little girl, the man’s fight or flight instinct kicked in. He quickly reached his hand into his deep coat pocket and withdrew his hunting knife. Before Spike had even turned his head back around, the man jerked his arm up and slammed the blade into the vampire’s heart.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The sound of the shotgun blast had caused everyone’s heads to jerk up from what they’d been doing. Buffy had been leaving the chow hall, her arms full of foodstuffs to take back to the cabin. In the moment that it took to register the direction the sound had come from, she’d already dropped the food and started running. She heard the sound of someone’s heavy footsteps behind her, but didn’t stop to see who it was. 

She tore through camp much as she had the night that Dawn had been sick: her heart in her throat, fear lighting up every nerve in her body till she felt as if she’d been electrocuted. The sound of the second blast almost stopped her heart. When she entered the forest, she veered from the pathway in favor of the more direct route. Branches scraped her cheeks as she ran; the tiny cuts barely registering in her determination to go just a little bit faster. 

_Please be all right! Please be all right!_ The thoughts echoed over and over in her head. Her imagination pictured a thousand scenes of what might be waiting for her; each one more horrible than the last. Dawn dead on the floor, riddled with bullets. Dawn alive, but bleeding out as she cried for Buffy. Dawn dying in her arms as Buffy tried to save her. Spike hunched over Dawn’s dead body; all golden eyes and bloody jaws. 

Just as the image flashed through her mind, a fearsome roar echoed through the woods. She skidded to a halt, her mind racing to place the sound. When she realized just what, or rather who, had made it, she took off again. _Nononononononono! You’re supposed to protect her!_ Buffy wasn’t sure what would be worse - to find Spike and Dawn both dead if he’d failed against an attack or to find that Spike was the cause of Dawn’s death himself. 

But...that wasn’t true. Even though they’d only known him for a short time, Buffy felt her heart clench with the pain and rage she would feel if Spike had betrayed them. He...he wouldn’t...couldn’t do that to her!

The cabin came into view through the brush, and Buffy ran until she reached the front door. She gasped at the sight of the shattered window, the shredded curtains blowing in and out of the now open room with the breeze. The door was open, but Buffy didn’t hear anything at first. She swallowed hard and stepped inside cautiously. 

The first thing she saw when she entered was a man’s body on the floor; his head twisted almost all the way around like some sort of demonic owl. His eyes were wide and unseeing, and his mouth was open in a silent scream. A few feet away, Spike sat slumped against the wall, blood streaming in thin lines from where the hilt of a knife stuck out from his chest. His eyes were closed, but he was clearly conscious; Buffy watched his jaw tighten and his brow furrow in pain. 

Tearing her eyes from him for a moment, Buffy scanned the room frantically. Dawn — where was Dawn? When she looked over to the kitchen, she saw the tip of what looked like tiny toes sticking out from behind a counter. Buffy rushed over and found Dawn rocking with her knees curled up and her face buried in her crossed arms. Dawn didn’t raise her head even though Buffy was sure that the little girl had heard her come in. 

Beneath her arms, Dawn muttered quietly, “Don’t look. Don’t look. He said don’t look.” When Buffy brought her hand to Dawn’s shoulder, the little girl jerked up and gasped. Her eyes widened for a moment before she let out a harsh sob and fell into Buffy’s arms.

“I’m so sorry, Buffy! I tried to be quiet, but I was scared! I was so scared, and Spike told me not to look, so I didn’t! I didn’t look, Buffy, I promise! But Spike got hurt and he yelled and then they both fell down and he wouldn’t answer when I called him!” The violent sobs caused every other word to hitch and fall with Dawn’s erratic breaths. Buffy held Dawn tightly in her arms and rocked slowly back and forth. She tried to make soothing shushing noises as she buried her nose into Dawn’s dark hair, but it didn’t seem to help. 

Dawn continued to sob and babble into Buffy’s shoulder. “It’s my fault, Buffy! It’s all my fault! He came for me. I heard him —he was going to kill me! He said I was a rat and that nobody wanted me. But Spike made me move and be quiet and he told me not to look, so I didn’t! I promise I didn’t look!” 

“Shhh, shhh baby. You did good, Dawnie!” Buffy brought a hand up to stroke Dawn’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You did so good to listen to him! I need you to not look for a little bit longer, okay? You were really brave! I’m so glad you were brave and you listened! Spike’s gonna be okay, but I need to go help him now, all right? I need you to stay right here and not look until I tell you, okay?” 

At first, Dawn refused to let go; she shook her head frantically and clutched at Buffy’s shirt. Buffy glanced over at Spike as she tried to calm the little girl. He was still slumped against the wall, and though he was completely silent, it was obvious he was in pain. Buffy knew she had to get to him soon, so she continued to stroke Dawn’s hair and murmur quietly into her hair until Dawn slowly released her shirt. 

As soon as Dawn let go, Buffy shifted the girl’s face away from Spike and the dead intruder; then she moved quickly to Spike’s side. She knelt down carefully, afraid that anything she did would just cause him more pain. He wasn’t dust, so he couldn’t be dying, but even a knife in the chest shouldn’t be affecting him quite like this. His face was drawn and tight, but he still hadn’t made a single sound.

“Spike? Can you hear me?” She was almost afraid she’d been too quiet for him to hear. 

His eyelids fluttered and opened slightly; when she reached out and took one of his hands, he let out a labored breath. He winced and brought one of his hands up to the knife buried in his chest. Buffy watched wide-eyed as he gritted his teeth and yanked the blade free. Blood poured unhindered down his chest, and he finally let out a groan. 

Buffy sat frozen for a moment watching the stream of his blood until the sounds of shoes crunching against glass behind her broke the spell. She whipped around, ready to jump into action. It was only Xander finally catching up, but something about his shocked expression as he looked around the room pushed Buffy to action. 

“Xander! Dawn’s behind the counter. Get her out of here!” Her voice was sharp and commanding.

Xander’s head snapped up and he met her gaze for only a moment before he nodded. “I’m taking her back to camp, all right? I’ll bring her to Angel and send some help back here!” 

Dawn whimpered from her spot behind the counter, but Xander was able to coax her up and out towards the door. Dawn wrenched away from Xander’s grip for a moment and ran back to Buffy. She pointedly ignored the man on the floor, but her face paled even further when she looked at Spike, who was still bleeding and groaning in pain. Dawn gripped Buffy’s shoulder and leaned down to give her a tight hug. “I don’t want him to die, Buffy,” she whispered. 

Buffy returned the hug; then gently pushed her back towards Xander. “It’ll be okay, Dawn. I’m gonna watch him, and Willow will be here really soon to help. He’ll be okay.” She gave Xander a pointed look at the mention of the witch, and he nodded in understanding. 

“Soon as I can find them, Buffy. Help will be here soon.” With that, he took Dawn’s hand and pulled her out the door. 

Turning back to Spike, Buffy glanced down at his chest wound for a brief moment before jumping to her feet and quickly scanning the room for anything she could use to stop the bleeding. She saw the rag she’d used to wipe up the counter in her attempt to avoid him the night before and cringed. _Well...I guess a little potential infection from a dirty rag is better than bleeding out._ She grabbed the rag and rushed back to his side. She wasn’t actually sure if vampires could die from bleeding out but felt that now wasn’t the time to find out. 

“Spike? Spike, wake up, okay? You still in there?” 

He’d closed his eyes at some point while she’d been trying to get Dawn out the door, but he cracked one lid open enough for her to see that he was still conscious. 

“O-okay. Glad to see it. I’d have felt a little silly trying to stop a dead guy from bleeding — never mind. You know what I mean.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I don’t really know what to do here, but I’m gonna try to help, okay?” 

When he gave a barely perceptible nod, she continued. “This is probably going to hurt, so I’m sorry in advance.”

With no other warning, she pressed the rag against the wound and pushed hard against it to stop the flow of blood. Spike reacted violently; his body jerked up and spasmed as his face shifted until the demon was at the front again. He let out a roar that was as terrifying as it was agonizing, and Buffy flinched at the sight of his raw pain. She felt helpless just as she had when Dawn had been sick. For all her training, she realized she didn’t know much about vampires past how to kill them. All of her supposed life and survival skills were useless in the face of someone truly in need of her help. Why did she keep finding herself in these situations?

Buffy kept one hand pressed on the rag, but — with nothing else to offer— dropped the other one down to grasp one of his hands. It’s what she would have done for Dawn. Her voice was strained when she said, “Spike, you’ve got to tell me what to do. I don’t know how long it’ll be until Willow gets here, and I don’t know how to help. How do I help you?”

 _Help?_ His brain couldn’t process the word, so lost was he to the fiery pain. Everything inside him was burning: his blood, his guts, his brains — even his eyeballs felt like they were on fire. As he had feared, as soon as he’d snapped the man’s neck the magic of the oath had kicked in. He hadn’t known what to expect. Now he did. Something felt like it was sticking every part of him into a burning corona and roasting him from the inside out. So she wanted to help? He didn’t even know how he was alive, let alone how to ask her to help. 

Spike tried to at least get out enough words to explain what was happening, but when he opened his mouth, all he could produce was a low moan. As the pain became unbearable, he shut his eyes again; his body started to curl in on itself, instinctively protecting his heart and core. Buffy saw what he was trying to do and pushed him back down. 

“No, Spike, you have to be still! If you do that, you’ll just make it worse!” 

_C’mon, Buffy - think! There’s got to be something that would help...wait!_

Blood. She couldn’t believe that hadn’t been her first thought. He was a vampire. He was hurt. Spike’s words before he’d fed the night before came back in a rush. 

_“As a rule of thumb, human blood lasts you longer than animal blood - and the healthier the person the better. Need more when you're hurt and have to heal…”_

Later, she would be baffled by how little she actually thought about what she did next. Buffy took a deep breath and carefully pulled the hand she’d been holding up to lay it over the rag on his chest. She pressed down on his hand for a moment until she was sure that it wouldn’t fall away. She then moved closer to him and knelt fully on her shins so that she’d have better leverage to pull away if need be. Finally, she lifted her wrist to his mouth and pressed it against his lips. 

Spike’s eyes flew open again, and his amber eyes locked onto Buffy’s face immediately. His expression was unreadable, but he didn’t move to open his mouth right away. Buffy wondered if maybe he was waiting for some sort of assurance from her, so she nodded her head and pushed her wrist against his mouth more firmly.

“C’mon, Spike. I’m not Willow — I don’t know all that medical stuff, or even if vampires need stitches or things like that. But I can do this. You need blood to heal, so take it.” 

She was right, and he knew it. He wasn’t sure if even human blood would help given that most of his pain was a result of a magically bound oath, but it couldn’t hurt. It occurred to him that he should have thought of that before she did. There she was: a warm, willing way to heal himself; but he hadn’t even considered biting her again. Stupid that. And if she was offering, he’d be insane to turn her away.

Before she even had time to flinch, he’d slid his eyes closed, opened his jaws, and bit down. Buffy let out a pained gasp but didn’t pull back. Unlike the previous night, Spike wasn’t counting pulls. He wasn’t gentle - couldn’t be - when all he could think of was his urgent need for blood. He instinctively bit harder and drank deeper to get the most from each mouthful of her hot, rich blood, not noticing how much he took. It began working almost immediately. He could feel the deep knife wound begin to knit itself closed, but even more surprising, the all-encompassing pain that devoured his body began to fade. In just a few moments and mouthfuls of blood, he’d gone from the fires of hell to a pervading warmth that couldn’t be called anything except heavenly. 

When he was able to open his eyes again without pain, the first thing he noticed was Buffy’s face. Her tanned, rosy skin was pale, and her normally bright green eyes were beginning to glaze over. He reared back without thought, immediately retracting his fangs from her wrist. As soon as he wasn’t grounding her in place, she began to pitch forward, her eyes rolling up in her head.

Spike lunged forward in time to stop her from crashing face-first into the floor; newly revived muscles pulled her to his chest, and he lowered her gently to the floor. Her heart beat frantically in her chest, stubbornly trying to make up for its sudden lack of sufficient blood, and when Spike reached a hand to her cheek, it felt cold.

The enveloping warmth Spike had felt when drinking her blood was gone in a matter of seconds, quickly replaced by rising panic. He hadn’t meant to take so much; hadn’t realized that he had until it was too late. He’d been in such pain, and then she’d offered herself so freely. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. God, what if he killed her? 

Spike couldn’t help but picture Dawn’s face if she were to find out that Spike had been responsible for Buffy’s death. He might not be all guilt-ridden like Angel— had never been ashamed of what he was or what he did — but the thought of the little girl’s eyes left Spike with a terrible urge to hide, to run away; to tear, rip, and shred everything in his path until the whole world bled or he didn’t feel that way anymore. 

“C’mon, Buffy. Rise and shine! Gotta wake up now, pet. Can’t go to sleep just yet. C’mon, there’s a good girl — gimme a good glare so I know you’re okay.” He slipped a hand behind her head and tried to rouse her enough to sit. 

Buffy’s eyes opened, but barely. It wasn’t quite the glare he’d asked for, but it’d do. He just had to keep her awake until Xander or whatever help he’d managed to find arrived. Spike succeeded in convincing her to sit up against the wall he’d been leaning against earlier, but he could tell that the action cost her precious reserves of energy. Unsure of what else to do and unable to leave to find help, he kept up a steady stream of dialogue to keep her focused. 

“See here now, Buffy. I won’t have you up and leaving me all by my lonesome with the Tiny Terror. Sure she’s been all sweetness and light up till now, but that’s just ‘cause she knows you’re the boss. Knows that you’ll make her mind. You leave her with me and what’s left of my house is sure to be in flames inside of a day.” He tried to keep his tone light and teasing, and she rewarded his efforts with a small, strained smile.

“Not meant to be a babysitter of some little slip of a girl. Can’t quite be the Big Bad if I’m being trailed by a tiny little twig in pigtails, can I? I’d be the laughingstock of my kind. So you’re just going to have to get over this idea that you’re not going to be all right. Sorry, but you’re stuck here. Gonna have to wait for some other vamp to do you in, I s’pose. Infuriating chit like you, shouldn’t be too hard, yeah?” 

He wasn’t sure how long he kept talking; only that he didn’t stop the monologue or his hand’s gentle stroke on the back of hers until he heard the sound of hurried footsteps outside the cabin. They had come just in time. Even with his endless chatter, Buffy had been losing focus more and more, and Spike knew it was only a matter of time before she’d fade completely. 

The hand that the witch placed on his shoulder was quickly withdrawn when he glanced up still in full game face. Willow gasped; then she looked from his demonic face, mouth still faintly red from Buffy’s blood, to Buffy’s pale face. Willow’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and though she didn’t speak at first, the questions in her mind were clear in her accusing expression. 

For some reason, the idea she’d think he’d done this on purpose bothered him. It was one thing to care what Dawn might think — she was different, after all, special— but it was a completely different matter to feel offended that Willow might think he’d done what a vampire would do. It all came down to intent. He hadn’t meant to hurt Buffy. Hadn’t meant to lose control to the point where she’d be hurt; but he had, and he didn’t want witnesses to the discomfort the whole situation brought him. 

When Willow refused to say a word, only look at him questioningly, he growled impatiently. “Not what it looks like, all right? But you can help her?” 

Willow’s eyes hardened, and her tone was biting. “You sure? ‘Cause it looks like you bit her to heal yourself. Must have been a pretty nasty wound to need all that blood!”

Okay, so maybe it was what it looked like. “Wasn’t like that, Witch. She offered, and I—” He paused, unsure of how to finish the sentence. 

Willow nodded as if she knew what he was going to say and turned her attention back to Buffy. Her lips were stretched thin in worry, but just as she had when Dawn was sick, she seemed to put the worry aside and get to business. “Okay, well, I’m not sure if this will work, but it’s worth a shot.” 

Willow reached into her bag and pulled out a jar of deep purple-red juice. Spike’s expression must have been very confused because she made time to explain as she unscrewed the lid and tilted the jar towards Buffy’s lips. “It’s beet juice. Xander said you’d been stabbed, and I thought that maybe adding some of this to some blood for you would help you heal. It’s got lots of iron and other stuff that helps with replenishing blood cells. I have no idea if it’ll do Buffy any good since we’re obviously not giving her blood as well, but it can’t hurt.”

Spike wasn’t foolish enough to think that a sip of the juice would produce a miracle cure that would result in a movie-esque recovery complete with a swelling orchestral background, but he’d hoped for something a little more promising than simply Buffy swallowing the juice in small gulps. 

Willow began chanting something in a low voice as she passed a small crystal over Buffy’s body until it began to emit a pale blue light. Buffy seemed to breathe easier after that, her heartbeat not sounding quite so thready and weak. Spike allowed himself to relax a bit: fairly certain she at least wouldn’t kick off in the next few minutes. He knew she needed to be brought to the clinic and cursed his inability to get her there. They’d have to wait for Xander to return, but at least the witch’s magic would keep her alive till then. He resisted the urge to reach up and brush her hair out of her face. The witch was sure to fuss enough for both of them.

Xander chose that well-timed moment to run back through the door, Wes hot on his heels. With only passing glances to the dead man on the floor and the bloodstained vampire, both men rushed forward to help. Willow instructed them to get her to the clinic as fast as possible and to find Tara for help. She looked to Xander and rattled off a list of supplies they’d need to help Buffy, and he nodded before turning to leave. Wes hoisted Buffy into his arms carefully and followed Xander out the door. 

Spike thought Willow would follow to help, but she hesitated. She had an intense expression on her face: confused and worried at the same time. Spike stood up slowly, mentally checking the depth of healing that Buffy’s blood had provided.

Willow’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “I’m guessing the man with the broken neck is your doing. How’d you manage it?” 

Spike quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean, Red? S’not so hard — just grab and twist.”

Willow blanched for a moment but shook it off. “No, not like that. What I mean is, you hurt him. You killed him...a human! I did the original oath with you myself. I know it was done right. You shouldn’t be — you’re not supposed to be able to harm anyone at all. But you’re fine! What did you do?” She looked at him accusingly, as though he’d managed to outsmart her little spell somehow. 

Spike narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You mean to tell me that this was always the plan? That even if a vamp was defending themselves, they’d be killed for harming one of the precious humans? The fuck kind of deal is that? Does Angel know?” 

Willow wouldn’t look at him; which told him all that he needed to know. “I get it. You’ll live with us, work with us, but God forbid we have a way to hurt anyone, even at the risk of our own lives. Not exactly what the brochure said; is it? You sold that idea to His Highness when you came as a way to stop vamps from killing indiscriminately, not to leash us completely. Should be interesting to see how he reacts when he finds out that there was more to it.” 

“Well, it’s worked, hasn’t it?!” Willow’s face had turned crimson; Spike wasn’t sure if it was shame or anger. “Everyone’s done just fine. I didn’t want - vampires are the only demons here inherently dangerous to us - I couldn’t risk some trade agreement turning deadly if the vampire thought they’d only be in trouble if they tried to feed. There’s lots of other ways to hurt people!”

Spike’s angry growl stopped her short, his rage rising so fast that he couldn’t even enjoy the look of fear on her face. “This wasn’t some trade agreement gone wrong, you daft twit! He came here to kill that little girl! What if I’d gone down after a punch or a bite before he was dead? He’d have found her and she’d be dead too! You telling me that levels out as just in your mind?” 

Willow paled; which only encouraged Spike to continue. “You didn’t think of that, did you? That a vampire might harm a human in defense of another. You just assumed that whatever happened, the demon would be at fault. You crazy bitch - thought you were supposed to be all love and tolerance. Just not for us, that it?”

Willow shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her face. “No. No! It’s not like that! I just wanted everyone to be safe! I was just trying to help!” 

Spike snorted disdainfully. “Sure. Because a demon wouldn’t be capable of making the right choice, would it? Automatically going to be on the wrong no matter what! You can spin this any way you want, Red, but you fucked up. You know you fucked up, and you know that everyone else will think you fucked up too. But you know what’s almost funny?

Willow didn’t say anything but shook her head. 

“If you’d been right - if a demon would always make that choice - you’d be dead too. You’ve no idea how much I’m tempted just now. It’d be easy - could snap your neck for the pain I endured, just like I did him. But I won’t. Because I owe Buffy for her blood, and I know you’re going to give her the help she needs. Right?” 

Willow finally looked up at him to nod, her eyes red and swollen. Spike wasn’t moved at all by her tears. They made him sick. 

Without another word, Willow turned and ran. Spike found himself alone, trapped on the far side of his house by the sunbeams still streaming into the room and unable to go to Buffy or Dawn. He clenched his teeth in useless anger for a long moment but finally slid back down the wall to sit with his head rested against his knee. He’d just have to wait the light out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is like drugs - be my dealer?


	12. Hedera helix (Ivy)

**_Hedera helix (Ivy)_ **

Spike watched the sun sink behind the trees and paced like a caged animal, glaring at the offending ball of light as if its slow descent was a personal insult. He’d spent the first few hours after everyone had left slumped against the wall well away from the midday sun. He’d waited with what passed for patience for him, sure that someone would come back with news about hi- the girls. The longer he waited, the more he worried. Yes, damn it all, he was worried about them. Neither of them had been in good shape, mentally or physically, when they’d been taken, and not knowing how or where they were was slowly driving him mad. 

Nearly three hours after Xander, Wes, and Willow had left, Wes had returned to the cabin. He’d stayed firmly in the sunlight. Apparently, Spike jumping to his feet and snarling his displeasure at how long they’d left him waiting had left the other Brit with the notion that being within reach of the trapped vampire would be a poor decision for his health. 

Wes had calmly relayed that both girls were as well as could be expected. Dawn had been taken to Angel in order to keep her safe and well out of the main encampment while Buffy had been brought straight to the clinic. Willow and Tara had managed a handy bit of healing magic and had stabilized Buffy for the time being. The plan was to let her rest there at the clinic for the foreseeable future or until the witches came up with a better plan or spell. In order to keep the quarantine, Dawn would remain at Angel’s cabin until Buffy was well.

At the mention of Dawn’s accommodations, Spike had let out a deep, angry growl. “The hell she will! Bring her home - Angelus don’ know the first thing about kids besides eatin’ ‘em!” He’d flashed his fangs for emphasis, hoping that the other man could be bullied into giving in to his demands. 

Wes had raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Home, is it? Looking at it now, I hardly see this place as the safer option for her. Do you really think she’s going to want to come back to the place where she was nearly killed? Where Buffy was nearly killed?” 

Wes’s pointed look and implied accusation had been enough to make Spike flinch in what felt suspiciously like shame, but he’d only allowed it to show for a brief moment. When he met Wes’s eyes across the room, he’d already schooled his features back into something calm and impassive. He might be panicking inwardly at the thought of little Dawn in Angel’s home, but it wouldn’t do to let the other man see it; Wes might interpret it as something it wasn’t. 

Spike’s thoughts had whirled, grasping at any idea that might sway the other man. His growing desperation caused his words to come out almost petulantly. “What? You think I was goin’ to just leave the dead body and the glass all over the floor? Soon as the sun goes down, she’ll be safe as houses here. Besides, King Forehead won’ want her - might run the risk of requiring him to cut in on his special self-loathing time.” 

Wes had continued to study him silently, which made Spike angry. What the hell was he looking for? Ok, so yeah, Spike wouldn’t feel right until his - no, goddammit, not his - the girls were back home. And yes, it might as well be their home too. It didn’t matter that they’d only been with him a matter of days. He’d bled for Dawn, and Buffy had bled for him. As far as his demon was concerned, that made them his...well fine, his something. 

It should have bothered him more than it did to admit that. Spike had long ago accepted that he was different from others of his kind in many ways. William and his human ideals had stuck around a bit too much for Spike’s liking from the very start despite his century of trying to cover the bastard’s hunger for love and loyalty in blood and death. Most of the time, he was successful at beating his stubborn humanity into submission. Playing Dru’s monstrous black knight for decades had helped; but without her innate need for his violence and ferocity, he’d found himself more susceptible to his former self’s desires. 

But fuck it all, he was still a demon. Spike was sure that later he would wonder how he’d allowed himself to get in so deep so quickly. He’d wonder why the fuck he hadn’t called his end of the bargain fulfilled and walked - or ran- away. It simply wasn’t proper for a demon to get so attached to humans. He should have cut his losses and refused to take them back or wonder about their fates. But that thought alone caused a sharp pain in his chest that might as well have been the damned knife again, and Spike had no choice but to accept that he was well and truly buggered. 

While Spike had waged his inner war, Wes had watched him with suspicious interest. A few times, it appeared that he was about to speak but seemed to think better of it. Finally, he’d regarded Spike with calm stoicism and said that he’d ask Dawn what she preferred and go from there. With that, he’d gone to check on Buffy and Dawn, leaving Spike to his thoughts until sunset.

Hope bloomed traitorously in Spike’s chest at Wes’s suggestion, followed shortly by a sharp, painful fear. What if the Bit didn’t want to come back? What if she  **did** blame Spike for what had happened to Buffy? She should, he supposed, but he didn’t want her to. He wanted the little girl to understand that he hadn’t meant to hurt Buffy. Hadn’t meant to scare Dawn. 

And there was the kicker. Spike didn’t mind the idea of humans fearing him. Point of fact, he’d gone out of his way to make sure that most of the humans in camp regarded him with at least mild terror. But that had been on purpose. He’d been in control of it. What had happened today had not been intentional, and the thought of little Dawn looking at him with fear or disgust in her eyes left him with a cold, painful pit in his stomach. 

_ “Okay. I like you! I’m ready to go now!” _

_ “Night, Spike! Don’t let the bedbugs bite!” _

Oh Christ, what if she didn’t want to come back? 

Spike raked a hand through his already chaotic curls and let out a deep, hopeless sigh. It’d be okay. It would. Just a few more minutes until the sun would finally set; then he would go to them and hope that they were still his...whatever they were. 

<><><><><><><><<<>><><><><><<><><><>

Angel eyed the little girl curled up in one of his chairs with all the wariness one might give a piece of fruit that could be poisonous. It looked innocent enough, but something about it screamed ‘danger’ and gave one pause. The icy glare she kept tossing him periodically didn’t help. 

Angel didn’t know the first thing about children. As a man, he’d been a happy bachelor who’d avoided even looking at the squalling infants in women’s arms in an attempt to keep himself separate from all pretenses of domesticity. After he’d been turned, he’d only paid attention to children if their pain served a purpose. 

Unbidden, a memory rose of dangling a woman’s shrieking child over the edge of her own balcony while she struggled and pleaded for him to take anything, do anything, so long as he spared her little one. He’d grinned savagely and agreed to her terms...at least until he’d taken everything she thought he could want from her. Her screams when he’d slashed the child’s throat in front of her had been delicious, as had the sounds of her keening wails when he’d viciously torn her away from the body to take her again while covered in her child’s blood. 

Angel suddenly felt his stomach rebel. The temptation to vomit all over the floor almost got the best of him as the guilt pierced and shredded its way through his mind. The feeling swelled in his gut when he realized that in the course of reliving the memory, he’d become hard. He looked up and saw Dawn still glaring at him; for an awful moment, he wondered if the girl had noticed. He shifted in his seat to hide his erection and did his best to pretend that he was reading the book in his hand. 

Across the room, Dawn was bored. She’d taken to glaring at the large vampire because that’s all there was to do. He’d been sitting in the other chair in the main room of his home for the past hour with some dusty old book that he’d only really looked at twice. Every now and again he’d look at her, but mostly he just sat there acting uncomfortable. 

When Mr. Xander had brought her to Angel, Dawn had been too frightened to do anything but sit as she’d been told. Xander had explained what had happened, and Dawn had caught the tail end of the conversation that the two men had held in hushed tones. 

“...got to get back...something wrong with Spike…”

“...anywhere else for her to go?”

“...last thing we need...man with a gun…”

“...Fine...until you can come back...hurry…”

It was obvious that Angel didn’t want her there. Dawn didn’t really understand why he’d be uncomfortable around her; unless maybe he thought she was dangerous like the man at the cabin had. But that didn’t make sense because he was a vampire and Dawn was pretty sure that nothing scared vampires. So it had to be something else about her that he didn’t like. The idea made her squirm and press herself tightly into the back of the chair as though she could disappear into it. 

He’d only said a handful of words to her since Xander left. That was fine. Dawn didn’t really want to talk to him either. She still remembered the weird way he’d been looking at Buffy the very first night they’d been there, and something about it had scared her. Just a moment ago he’d had a look like that. Dawn had felt afraid again, but hidden it by glaring at him some more. When he’d noticed her, he’d looked embarrassed and gone back to pretending to be reading the book. 

Angel didn’t have a clock in his house, so Dawn couldn’t be sure how long it had been since Mr. Xander had left her there. It felt like a long time though, and Dawn had begun to feel antsy. She’d tried counting the knots in the wood floor, but she’d lost count. She’d tried thinking of all the things she’d like for dinner that night, but that just made her hungry. She tried making up a story about a stupid vampire who frowned so much his face got stuck that way, but that just got boring. 

What she didn’t want to do was think too hard about what she had seen and heard at the cabin. When Spike had grabbed her and pulled her behind the counter, she’d been so happy to see him. Then he’d sent her to the other end of the kitchen, and she’d had to bite her lip hard to keep from accidentally making any noise. When the man had come in, she’d almost started crying but kept telling herself that she couldn’t let him know where they were. Then Spike had changed faces to his bumpy one and lifted his clawed hand to cover his eyes when he looked at her. She’d understood what he wanted her to do and she’d obeyed. That hadn’t stopped the sounds. 

For as long as she lived, she’d never forget the sound the knife had made when the man stabbed Spike...all because she hadn’t been able to keep quiet. It had been a wet noise but also hard. That had been confusing and scary because she couldn’t think of anything else she’d ever heard that sounded like it. Spike had made a weird little breathy sound like he’d tried to breathe in and couldn’t; then after a quiet moment, something had sounded like it snapped. The next thing she knew, she heard a hard thud of something hitting the ground...then another something. Spike had made another odd breathy sound; then it was just quiet. 

She’d called his name several times, her head still buried in her lap with her eyes covered. A few times, she thought she could hear a choking sound from his direction, but he never spoke. She wanted to open her eyes - wanted to know what had happened - but she couldn’t. Spike had wanted her to close her eyes, so that’s what she would do until someone told her differently. 

When Buffy had found her, Dawn couldn’t hold back the tears. All of her fear had come tumbling out of her mouth as she’d held onto Buffy and cried. When Buffy had finally convinced Dawn to let go so that she could check on Spike, Dawn had been terrified that he’d died without her knowing. She didn’t want to know, so she refused to look. It wasn’t until Mr. Xander had come and was leading her out the door that she’d stopped and looked back for a moment. 

She saw Buffy sitting on the ground next to — oh geez, there had been a lot of blood. Spike looked really hurt! Suddenly, Dawn couldn’t stop herself from pulling away from Mr. Xander to run to Buffy. She’d wrapped her arms around Buffy for a tight hug and begged her not to let Spike die. It would be all her fault if he died. 

She didn’t really remember the walk to Angel’s house. Her mind had been frantically trying to catch up with what she’d seen and heard, and watching where she was going just didn’t seem that important. She hadn’t even realized where they were going until the door had opened and Angel had looked at her with an expression that looked angry and sad and afraid all at the same time. When they’d entered the cabin, she’d been sent to the chair in the corner and she’d been there ever since. She wondered how long until Buffy came back to get her. She worried that Spike was dead. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Spike had been out the door the moment the sun disappeared over the treetops. He’d spent the last thirty minutes dodging the faint late-day sunbeams coming in through the torn curtains as he tried to sweep up the glass and other debris all over the house. When he’d done that, he’d considered the body still lying on the floor. What to do with it? He certainly wasn’t going to go to the trouble of burying the bastard, but somehow he doubted that dropping a dead body at Angel’s door and asking him to deal with it would go over well. He’d even thought about taking the body to one of the vampire nests and telling them that they could have the blighter for a somewhat stale snack if they’d get rid of the body afterward. He’d almost decided that that was the way to go before the thought struck that the humans might not look favorably on that particular decision; which could blowback on Buffy or Dawn somehow as his ‘housemates’. 

Finally, after weighing all of his options, he decided that Angel was just going to have to deal with it. Handling cross-community dissension was not in Spike’s wheelhouse, paygrade, or any other euphemism for responsibility. Let His Nibs deal with how to best dispose of the body without pissing people off. Decision made, he’d hoisted the man’s body over his shoulder and walked into the twilight towards Angel’s cabin. 

He’d taken an indirect route - last thing he bloody needed right now was to happen upon some random human or demon out for a stroll or hunt while carrying a very dead body. When he reached the treeline around Angel’s home, he shifted into his demon guise. Angel had allowed a rather stubborn bunch of ivy plants to crawl their way up the side of his home, obscuring the windows. However, with sharper senses, Spike could easily determine who was inside. There were two heartbeats, and Angel’s scent was strong enough to let him know the master of the house was also present. Shifting his human face back to the front, he dumped the body behind a large clump of bushes before heading to the door. 

Spike never bothered knocking when he had to visit his grandsire. If Angel was so far in his own head that he didn’t hear or smell Spike coming, it served him right to be surprised. For the human’s sake, however, Spike made an exception. He rapped his knuckles against the wooden door and waited a brief moment before entering. 

He’d not gone three feet inside the door before a tiny blur of brown hair and spindly limbs had attacked his middle. He reacted without truly thinking and dropped to his knees, wrapping her up his arms and instinctively pushing his nose into her hair to breathe in deeply. She smelled fine: no blood, at least. While he couldn’t ‘smell’ emotions like some people seemed to think animals could, he could pick up the pheromones the body naturally gave off in certain situations. She had been afraid recently; she smelled of sharp sweat and the tang of anxious prey. Spike grit his teeth and inwardly resolved to bash Angelus’s head in if he’d so much as breathed at the little girl wrong. In the midst of his violent thoughts, he realized that she was whispering something into his neck. 

“I’m sorry, Spike! I didn’t mean to make anyone mad or for you to get hurt! I’m so sorry! Please don’t make me stay here!” Her voice was frantic, and it tugged at long-forgotten heartstrings. 

Not sure of the right thing to do and very aware of the others in the room, Spike ran a hand over the little girl’s hair and held her a bit tighter. Had there been no audience, Spike would have done what came naturally - what he had done for Dru in the midst of her fits and for Buffy today when she’d been hurt. He’d have kept up a steady stream of comforting nonsense for her to focus on and stroked her hair or back until she was able to calm herself down. 

The others in the room made him hesitant to show the girl too much affection. With Angel’s own predilections, he would make assumptions that just weren’t true and use it to pass judgment. He might also see the girl’s trust in Spike as a weakness to be utilized. Wes was harder to predict. Spike wasn’t sure if the other Brit would view his comforting Dawn as a plus in Spike’s favor or a cause for concern. He’d wonder why the girl was so attached, for certain; then he’d wonder why Spike would be bothering to make the girl feel better. At the end of it, Wes would draw his own conclusions about the relationship, but Spike didn’t feel like giving him too much to consider at the moment. There’d be time later to make sure the girl was all right when they were home. For now, he’d be cautious. 

“There now, Bit. No more of this soggy face business, yeah? Gonna crease the leather and then where will we be?” Spike couldn’t make himself sound stern with the girl, but he tried to keep his words and tone easy and fairly generic. 

Dawn lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him intently. She must have found whatever she’d been looking for because, after a moment, she nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. He slowly lowered her back to the ground, but kept a hand on her shoulder until he was sure she was steady. 

Wes cleared his throat from across the room and looked at Spike with suspicion. “Everything cleared up in your cabin?” 

Spike nodded, forcing himself to shift his attention from Dawn to the room’s other two inhabitants. “Yeah, gonna need a few of my lazy-arsed brethren to get the window patched up before morning, but, other than that, should be fine. Axel should be about; I’ll see if I can snag him and Harris. Got a few favors due from Harris’s boys, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to get patched up quick.”

“What trades have you made, if not for blood?” Wes was being nosy, he knew; but the bartering system at camp was still so new and interesting to him, especially as it pertained to what demons would trade for, that he found himself unable to stop the question. 

Spike quirked an eyebrow but answered. “Recently found myself needing to get rid of a fair amount of jars and bottles and whatnot. Glass containers are useful for all manner of things. Didn’t need a nip right at the moment, so we settled with a reasonable IOU. This’ll do fine.” 

Wes nodded and looked to be thinking of another question before Angel interrupted. “So... about the girls.”

Spike glared but resisted the urge to bare his teeth at the other vampire. “What about them?”

Angel had his ‘I’m the Boss - deal with it, boy’ face on; it was a look Spike was very familiar with. He was going to try to argue something and make it sound like it was very obviously the right thing to do even if it was the exact opposite of the right thing. 

“Well,” Angel began. “The way I see it, we need to come up with another place for them to stay.”

“The hell we do! My place is fine.” 

“Spike, someone shot at them today. They got past you, and Buffy was hurt - badly. Obviously, we need to come up with a plan B before something like this happens again and someone else dies.”

Spike huffed indignantly. “He didn’t get past me. Snapped the bastard’s neck, didn’t I?”

Angel looked at him accusingly. “Yes, you did. Which begs a whole lot of other questions that we’re going to get answered, but not right now. Right now, we think about where these girls will be safe.”

Spike didn’t hesitate for a moment. “With me.” 

Next to him, Dawn clung to his coat and kept trying to slip herself behind him. Spike looked down at her for a brief moment before shifting so that his feet were solidly grounded and his arms crossed in front of him. 

“Little one’s been through enough today. It wouldn’t be right to put her somewhere else when she’s just now used to the place. The witches will have Buffy up and about soon, but the girl will be safe with me. Send the Watcher along with us if you like. Gonna need someone around during the daytime anyway if she needs anything.” 

Wes looked less than thrilled at Spike’s suggestion - Angel even less so. The two men shared a pointed look; then Angel let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, Spike - take her. She said that’s what she wants anyway, and there aren’t really any other viable options right now. ” 

His official proclamation on the matter made, Angel rose and walked into another room muttering something about needing a drink. Wes watched him leave with wide eyes, apparently expecting a different answer than what had been given. It occurred to Spike that having the man on opposite sides from himself would come back to bite him in the arse eventually, so a bit of peace might need to be made. 

“Watcher, a word?” Spike tilted his head towards the door.

Wes fixed Spike with a hard look for a moment before nodding in acceptance and moving towards the door. Spike turned to face Dawn and brushed a hand over the top of her head. “Gimme a minute, Niblet. Gotta talk to the Watcher and we’ll be on our way. You’ll be all right for a moment?”

Dawn seemed to pale slightly at the thought of being left alone and glanced nervously towards the room where Angel had disappeared. Spike was fairly certain that Angel hadn’t done anything untoward in the few hours that Dawn had been with him, but he still felt like walloping the bastard for making the little girl uncomfortable in any way. He gave Dawn a reassuring smile and gently nudged her back towards one of the chairs. Once she’d settled, he turned to follow Wes out the door. 

Wes stood stiffly outside the door, hands at his hips as he stared intensely at the darkening tree line. His mouth was set in a firm line, and he didn’t even bother to look at Spike before remarking, “I don’t trust you, you know.” 

Spike didn’t even try to stop the derisive snort that escaped. “Yeah? Probably a wise choice.” 

Wes glanced over with a disdainful expression. “I’m glad to see that you find this all so amusing. A man is dead. Buffy almost died - thanks to you, mind you. Once again, Dawn has been subjected to a situation that no child should ever be and still escaped with her life. While I accept that not all of these things are your doing alone, I still have to question the wisdom of leaving a small girl in the hands of someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” 

“You know damn well what I mean; don’t play coy! A killer, a demon, a predator, a soulless monster - take your pick. I care for these girls, and while I accepted the original plan because it seemed to be the only alternative, I do not approve of it. You are not someone to be considered safe. You’re a vampire, for Christ’s sake. What kind of man am I to send this poor girl home with you?” Wes’s expression was cold but tinged with guilt. 

Spike rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated huff. “Oh for fuck’s sake! You’re giving His Highness a run for his money with all this drama! I’m not gonna hurt the girl!” 

“And yet she was hurt. Which, granted, was not your doing, but happened on your watch. Then Buffy somehow ends up nearly bled to death; something I doubt your intruder was responsible for. Lack of the correct equipment, you understand.” Wes’s sarcasm was heavily laced with derision; his voice raised with an abnormal show of emotion. “And yet I’m meant to send this small child with you with no assurance that I won’t find her dead and dismembered in the morning!” 

Spike let out a deep growl, interrupting the other man’s tirade. His eyes flashed amber in anger, but he reminded himself that killing the other man for his accusations wouldn’t get Dawn home any faster. “Sod off, Watcher. I protected her, didn’t I? Went and got myself stabbed and burned for her. I didn’t...never meant to hurt Buffy.” Spike paused for a moment before he said something embarrassing. “I was hurt. Turns out the witch’s spell wasn’t just meant to keep us from nibbling on the populace - she meant for it to keep us fully leashed. Can’t even harm a human without pain, and killing them is apparently forfeit of your own unlife.”

“What? How did she — but you killed him? Why didn’t you die?” Wes’s voice was still hard, but he couldn’t help the twinge of curiosity that he felt. 

Spike didn’t answer for a long moment. How to answer this? He’d had time to come up with his own ideas while stuck alone at the house, but no way to know if he was right. Even if he was, why the hell would he tell the uptight man in front of him? He’d only use it as an excuse to keep Dawn and Buffy away. 

The part of him that was still William knew that Wes’s anger and distrust came from a place of fear for someone he cared about. After all, he’d been willing to stay with Dawn when Buffy had faced the mob and again today he’d stayed so the girl wouldn’t be alone with Angel. However, the part of Spike that was purely demon said that the man should recognize him as the obviously superior predator and protector for the girl and stand down. After all, as far as the demon was concerned, the little girl belonged to him. He’d bled for her, and blood was life. 

Finally, he decided to take a risk and trust the man just a bit. Buffy had trusted Wes with Dawn before, and that counted for something. “Don’t know for sure. I have some ideas, but that’s all they are.” 

“Well, come on, then. Let’s hear it.” Wes turned to face Spike completely, his arms crossed in front of him. 

Spike waited a moment more before answering. It wouldn’t do to go spouting his ideas where Angel could hear. Spike knew that he’d need to talk to the other vampire soon about Willow’s deception, but now wasn’t the time. If he was right, and Buffy’s status as a potential had played a part in his survival, he needed to find a way to explain his survival without letting Angel in on the secret. Chances were he already knew, but if he didn’t...well, Spike wouldn’t be the one to clue him in. Too much chance for Angel to be the manipulative bastard that he was and use the information for his own gain. 

Spike answered when the only sound he could make out from inside was Dawn shifting impatiently in her chair. “Do you know what the spell actually is what keeps us leashed here at camp? No? Well, haven’t got time to spell it all out. Long story short, the witch sold Angel on the idea as a way to keep vampires from killing indiscriminately. Said it would trigger if a vampire attacked or fed on a human with malice or ill intention. Got us to agree to it thinking that as long as we stuck to the trades and animal blood, we’d be safe. As it turns out, Red doesn’t trust us much. Added a little extra mojo in there that makes it so we can’t even defend ourselves. We harm a human at all, and there’s a response. I killed the blighter, so chances are I should have died; no matter that I was protecting the girl.”

“But you didn’t. Why?”

Spike gave him a sideways glance before answering carefully. “You know they say Slayer blood is different — special for us. All sorts of legends about it being a healer, an aphrodisiac, a bloody Holy Grail. Maybe potentials are like that too.” 

Wes stiffened; then sighed and looked straight ahead. “How did you know?”

“Does it matter?”

The expression on Wes’s face darkened as he turned to look Spike straight in the eyes. “You tell me. She’s living in a camp full of demons at the ass-end of the world, and now a vampire known for his murder of Slayers not only knows who and what she is, but also lives with her and has her bound to a deal involving her blood. You tell me if it matters that you know. You can’t tell me it wouldn’t matter if the demon community at large knew what she could become.” 

“Course it would. Slayers mean death - hence the name. Vamps and demons find out what she is and they’re going to feel about as safe as the witch did when she essentially put us all in shock collars.”

Wes nodded and was silent for a moment. “No one has discovered Willow’s intentions before now. That means that none of the vampires have done anything to harm the human residents, regardless of their belief that there would only be consequences if they killed with the intent to feed. Why not? What’s kept them — you — from killing more for...well, for the hell of it, frankly?”

Spike looked at the former Watcher incredulously. “Have you met any of the others? Lazy arse sods that they are, none of them are impatient fledges. They know what they’ve got here. Even if they didn’t think they’d get roasted for a stray punch or fight, they’d risk losing a fairly reliable food source and a safe nest if Angelus gave them the boot for causing trouble. We’re demons, Watcher, not bloody zombies.“

Wes looked at Spike as though he’d grown a new head. “You know, you’re not at all describing vampires as I’ve ever known them.”

“Welcome to the end of the fucking world, Watcher. We all do what we must.” 

“Yes...I suppose we do.” 

Silence fell between the two for several minutes. Spike wondered if now was a good time to grab Dawn and go. He wanted to go check in on Buffy but didn’t see how he’d be able to without leaving Dawn with Angel longer. He idly considered the idea of stashing her in a tall tree away from the others while he made a quick jaunt to the clinic. Probably not. With his luck, she’d get stuck up there like the kitten she was, and he’d be forced to go up after her. Hardly dignified for a vampire of his age. 

As if he’d read Spike’s mind, Wes spoke up. “It’s getting late. Dawn needs sleep, and someone ought to drop by the clinic to check on Buffy. ” 

Spike nodded in agreement and was about to suggest that he go check on Buffy while Wes took Dawn back to the cabin, but Wes quickly continued. “Spike… you’ll keep her secret for now? People already have so little good will for her and Dawn. Think of it as you owing her for that healing blood if you like.”

Spike nodded once more, but said nothing. 

Wes straightened and considered Spike carefully before sticking a hand out. “I still don’t trust you. I haven’t the faintest idea why you’re going out of your way for these girls, and I don’t like that at all. Should I find out that you’ve abused their trust - or mine - I’ll set you on fire myself.” 

Spike grinned, understanding the unspoken faith the Watcher was placing in him. He reached out and shook the proffered hand firmly. “As it should be.” 


	13. Taraxacum officinale (Dandelion)

**_Taraxacum officinale_ (Dandelion)**

The camp’s nocturnal residents were awake and bustling about as Spike made his way through the camp. He passed a few demons doing their nightly bit of trading and business and offered a salute of acknowledgment when they greeted him, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t have long before he’d need to make his way back to Dawn, but there were things he needed to accomplish that he hadn’t mentioned to the Watcher. 

He wasn’t surprised when one of the matters on his ‘to-do’ list swaggered up to him on his way to the clinic. Axel approached purposefully, his dark eyes focused on Spike’s face as he placed himself right in Spike’s path. “Where ya been, Boss? Harris mentioned what happened at your place today, and I got all worried that you’d gone and dusted on us.” 

Axel folded his arms across his chest and squared his feet in a clearly defiant way that implied he wasn’t moving until he was satisfied. It was obvious what he wasn’t saying, but Spike was irritated that Axel had even stopped him. It was a bold move - though not a fledge or minion, Axel still deferred to Spike in most matters. They all did, except for Angel of course. 

Spike quickly shifted to his demon face and growled low in his chest. Axel reacted to the show of dominance by averting his eyes and taking a small step back, but only for a moment. He shook his head as if to clear it and gave Spike a wide, toothy grin. “Easy now, Boss. I’m not lookin’ to start somethin’ with ya; just lookin’ for some answers.”

Of course he was. If Harris had mentioned that Spike had killed a human, there were sure to be questions about how Spike was still walking around all devilishly handsome and undusty. It was, however, not a conversation for out in the open where any and all could hear. 

“As it turns out, I need to have a chat with you and the rest as well. Get the boys together and bring ‘em by Angelus’s courtroom. Got a quick errand to attend to before that, but I’ll be there soon.” 

Axel was very clearly curious, but he nodded in agreement. “You want I should tell them what happened?” 

Spike frowned and shook his head. “No. If they don’t know yet, they will. No need for anyone to get riled up before we have a chance to have it all out, yeah?” 

Axel shrugged but nodded again. “Yeah, all right. Hurry up though - word spreads fast ‘round here.” 

With that, he stepped out of the way and sauntered off. Spike continued on his way quickly. It wouldn’t take Axel long to find the other vampires; the last thing Spike needed was for them to have time to start yammering and drawing fool conclusions about things they didn’t understand. If he’d had time, he might have pulled Angel aside first and given him an advanced warning, but maybe this was better. Too much warning and His Royal Leadership might have time to be political about it all. 

By avoiding eye contact with anyone he passed, Spike was able to make his way to the clinic without any other distractions. It was quiet when he walked through the door; Red was nowhere to be seen, but Tara was working over at their long medicine table with her back to the door. At the sound of his heavy steps on the wooden floor, she turned; the worried expression on her face melting when she saw him. 

“Oh, Spike! I was wondering when we’d see you. She’s over —”

He didn’t need her to tell him. Buffy’s scent had hit him almost immediately, and he’d already started moving towards her by the time Tara had begun to speak. Buffy lay motionless in the bed nearest to Tara; her face was pale still, but her heartbeat was strong and her breathing was even. Spike felt some previously unnoticed tension bleed from his shoulders. Until he’d seen her, somewhere inside he’d been convinced that she’d died and he’d have to be the one to tell Dawn. 

Spike stood over her bed, eyes focused as he studied her from one end to the other. He didn’t notice the witch approach until she placed a hesitant hand on his arm. When he looked at her, she had a nervous expression on her face. Spike realized he must look a sight still dirty and bloodied from the day’s events. 

“How’s she doing?” His tone was gruff, but Tara didn’t seem to notice or mind. 

“I think she’ll pull through okay. A few months ago we found some materials to test for blood types in one of the town raids, so we were able to test her and match her to one of the residents here. We don’t exactly have the setup for a legitimate blood transfusion, but we figured out a passable process with a little science and a little magic, and she seems to be responding well.” 

Spike tore his gaze away from Buffy for a moment to ask, “Who did the mojo? Red?”

Tara frowned; her eyebrows knitting together in question. “No...I did. Does it matter?”

Not knowing how much Tara knew about her partner’s actions, Spike shrugged with practiced indifference. “Doesn’t. Just wondered. She been awake at all?” 

Tara nodded and smiled sweetly. “She has. Not for long at a time, you know, but enough. She asked for Dawn first, but she asked about you too.”

Spike’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Me? Why did she —” He trailed off, unsure of what he really meant to ask. 

Tara seemed to know. “She wanted to know if what she’d done had worked. She asked if you were healed and if anyone had been able to help. She was afraid her blood hadn’t been enough.” 

Silly chit! Dying from blood loss and she asks how the monster who put her there was faring! It wasn’t right. She shouldn’t have been thinking about him at all let alone be worried for him or his welfare. Really, it was unnatural for a potential Slayer to be so concerned for a vampire. Hadn’t anyone explained that to her?

But then, no one had forced him here either. No one had made him volunteer to check on her; the Watcher would have been glad to come. Spike had fed from humans at the camp for trade purposes before, but had never given them a second thought afterward. Granted, he hadn’t taken more than was agreed upon or hurt them more than was necessary. Still, this was different. She hadn’t had to help him. She could have let him die on the floor and gone on with the rest of her day. 

Spike’s mind twisted itself into knots trying to understand why she would risk herself in such a way. They had no connection. She’d thrown his own shoes at him for a little trash on the floor just a day ago, for fuck’s sake. They’d only shared a home for a matter of days. The kiss he’d placed on her wrist flashed into his mind, but he shoved it roughly away. That was no reason for her to offer herself to a feral, dying demon. 

Lost in his thoughts, Spike almost missed the flutter of her eyelids. He sank to one knee beside her bed and grabbed her hand without thinking. “Buffy? Can you hear me, pet?” 

Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, but they caught his and held his gaze. She smiled a bit drunkenly and gave his hand a faint squeeze. “Spike. You made it.” Her voice came out as a rough, sleepy whisper. 

“Yeah, luv. Still among the undead, thanks to you. You feelin’ all right?” 

Buffy’s brows furrowed and she frowned. “I think so? My brain’s still fuzzy. Where’s...is Dawn okay?”

Spike nodded and tried to smile encouragingly. “Yeah, the Bit’s fine. Watcher’s got her back at the cabin now. Seems she was driving Ol’ Angelus up the bloody wall, so I figured I’d have her back. Can’t have the Big Chief losing all his marbles on account of one small girl; with him out of commission, folks might turn around and do some fool thing like ask me to lead.”

Buffy smiled weakly, but the effort became too much, and her face relaxed again. She clearly wasn’t going to be awake for long. Even knowing that Tara was close by, Spike couldn’t stop the question from coming. “Why...why’d you do it, pet? Why’d you let me— you didn’t have to —” Once again, the right words wouldn’t come, but thankfully Buffy seemed to understand. 

Her words came out in between long breaths as sleep began to pull her back under. “You were going to...die for her. I couldn’t...let you. Let too many die already. I couldn’t...couldn’t save them. Couldn’t have...saved Dawnie. I could save...you.”

When she lost the battle to sleep a few moments later, Spike was still looking at her with wide eyes. Was it really as simple as that? She’d seen someone who needed help, and she’d helped? That did seem consistent with the Slayer habit of dying for pointless reasons. At this rate, she’d either be one hell of a Slayer if she was called or she would only last a minute before dying for some idiot that didn’t get out of the way fast enough. 

The thought of her being so flippant with her life made him bristle with anger. Didn’t she realize that she couldn’t do that? The little one needed her! She was — well, she wasn’t a mother, but she was a guardian, and even pseudo mothers/sisters shouldn’t tempt fate like that when they had a sprog to care for.  _ Damn hero types and their need to throw their lives away,  _ he thought angrily. __

On a deeper level, it stung that she might have made such a drastic choice out of a sense of duty or heroic instinct rather than because it was...him. Which was ridiculous because that shouldn’t matter to him in the slightest. He shouldn’t care if she might have made the same effort towards the bastard who’d invaded their home if he’d still been alive when she’d come running.

He thought of Willow’s belief that human life was the priority. Did Buffy believe something similar? Given the choice, who would she have chosen to save? Would she have left him bleeding and burning if she could have saved the other living soul, regardless of his intentions towards little Dawn? No. He couldn’t believe that she’d do that. He’d seen how she cared for the child. There was no way she’d have chosen Dawn’s would-be murderer over him, soulless and undead as he was.

Deep in his thoughts, Spike didn’t notice that he’d shifted to his demon face and was growling angrily until Tara reached out and shook his shoulder. He stood smoothly and turned to face the witch, lips pulled back to bare his fangs. Tara jumped back and released him, but her fearful expression quickly melted into annoyance. 

“Spike, that’s enough! Put it away!” 

For all her quiet disposition, Tara wasn’t an easily intimidated bird. Spike came back to himself and shook the demon features away. He’d be damned before he apologized for being a demon or reacting as one, but once again it seemed that around Buffy, he’d done something he hadn’t intended. He hadn’t even realized that his fangs were out before Tara had snapped him out of his own head. 

“Sorry, Glinda. Didn’t mean to—”  _ Well fuck me, what happened to not apologizing? _

Tara looked at him intently, as if she was trying to read his thoughts. “You look like you need some rest too, Spike. Why don’t you go get some sleep and check on her later? She’s not going anywhere tonight.”

Spike nodded, thankful that she wasn’t going to press him for any kind of explanation for his behavior. God only knew what he’d say. Was temporary insanity an option? He was certainly doing and thinking some insane things since the two girls arrived at his home. 

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, pet. Send someone for me or the Watcher if she needs something, yeah?” 

Tara’s expression had softened and looked almost sympathetic; it made his demon bristle under his skin and, for a moment, he was tempted to let it forward again. He’d rather the witch was appropriately afraid of him than thinking that he needed some kind of sympathy. 

Not quite able to bring himself to scare the witch intentionally, he settled for giving her a deep scowl as he left the clinic. Tara might be one of the good ones, but she was Willow’s lover. No way to know how much she knew or what she’d approved of. It wouldn’t do to risk Buffy’s care by blowing the lid off things too soon. 

His walk from the clinic to Angel’s court was uneventful; a few of the friendlier demons waved or saluted casually when he passed, but no one stopped him. He spent the short trip trying to suss out the best way to let a group of vampires know that they’d been played without turning the night into a bloodbath. 

When the oath had first been put forward as a requirement for any vampires wishing to remain as residents, the camp had already been up and running for several months. There had been one or two instances of a vampire taking advantage of a trade and taking too much before they could be stopped, but no one had died. 

Willow and Tara had come to camp together, and immediately they were put to use in the clinic. Everyone liked the pair; they were easy going and fair, from the looks of it. Their magic had been powerful and useful, and they’d quickly gained the trust of the camp leaders. So, no one had questioned when Willow had approached Angel with the idea of a blood oath to allow vampires and humans to be able to live together without fear. 

In theory, it hadn’t been a bad deal. Her explanation had been that the vampires would swear an oath on their own blood to not harm humans in the pursuit of blood or to feed. As the vampires were already accustomed to feeding as a part of trade and being careful with their “donors” if they were to ever hope for another trade, they hadn’t put up much of a fuss. Angel, irritating and domineering as he was, was a just master and wouldn’t knowingly allow them to be manipulated. So, they’d agreed. After all, everyone made sacrifices in this brave, new world. Better to be put on a choke chain than starved. 

They hadn’t added a new vamp to their numbers in quite some time, so anyone left was of a decent age and had lived in the camp for a long while. Turning new fledges didn’t make sense in their situation; why make another vampire who would just require more blood than they had to offer when they could allow the humans to live and get what they needed? Vampires were selfish, not stupid. While Angel was the unchallenged master of the camp, the rest of them functioned mostly independently as opposed to behaving like a traditional nest. Spike was the only other vampire with any sort of power, but even that was owed more to the fact that they’d rather deal with him than His Royal Poof-ness. 

There was no telling how they’d react when they found out that the witch’s spell had a bit more in the fine print than expected. Well, that wasn’t true. The younger vampires would snarl and rage and bellow for her blood. They’d demand retribution and her banishment as payment for their troubles. The older ones were more difficult to predict. Most were fifty years old or more; a few were close to a century. None were quite as old as Angel or even Spike, but they were old enough to see the gray areas of the situation. 

Willow was a trusted member of the human community and one of only two real medics in camp. The truth of the matter was that most of the humans and even perhaps some of the demons would agree with what she’d done. To banish her outright for her deception wouldn’t be easy or wise, necessarily, but something had to be done. Vampires were independent buggers despite their overtly social nature, and they wouldn’t take the news that they’d been leashed well. 

Spike’s thoughts carried him all the way to the longhouse door. He nodded in acknowledgment at the two demons standing guard at the door and made his way inside. A dozen sets of amber eyes met his own when he walked in. Angel sat on his ‘throne’ on the low platform, his own dark eyes stormy when Spike looked at him. The whole room felt tense and tight, like a string waiting to be cut. 

“Right. Evenin’, gents — pardon me, and ladies. Didn’t see you there, Lyssa. Let’s get down to it, shall we?” Spike swaggered up towards the front, every inch the effortlessly casual badass. Angel may have his platform, but this—this was Spike’s stage. 

Speaking of his grandsire, Spike fully expected Angel to start in with the full-on Spanish Inquisition, -God knew what torture toys Ol’ Angelus kept around for laughs- but the older vampire simply regarded him silently. He was waiting, Spike realized; waiting to see how badly Spike had fucked up and how he might defend himself.  _ Well, best get on with it, then,  _ Spike thought. 

“Let’s start with what happened at my home today. Long story short, a crazy bloke with a gun attacked me and the girls I’ve taken in. Stupid wanker thought he’d get to the little girl while her guardian was out and I slept and took a few potshots through my window. Couldn’t let him hunt the little one down, so I offed him. Snapped his neck; then thought my guts were going to burn up from the inside out. End of story.” 

Angel snarled in frustration from his place on the platform. “No, not the fucking end of the story! What else did you do? If the magic went off, you did something else. Decide you wanted a nip before you killed him? You sure as hell bit the older girl - nearly killed her. Sure that’s not what set it off?”

The other vampires looked from Angel back to Spike in confusion. They were obviously curious, but as usual, wanted to see which of the two senior members of the hierarchy would end up the winner. 

Spike fixed Angel with a cool stare. Tempting as it was to rise to the bait and spar with the bastard, the situation was too important to be lost in their perpetual pissing match. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? The idea that I fucked up and just wanted to cover my tracks. Makes it awful easy to ignore what’s right in front of your face, doesn’t it?” 

“What are you talking about?”

Spike huffed in annoyance. “Think about it, you bloody idiot! If I killed the bastard to feed or bit him before he died, wouldn’t there be marks on your new lawn ornament?”

Angel narrowed his eyes. “Fine. You meant to feed off him and just didn’t have the chance. Same difference.”

“Oh, is it now? Just the desire for blood is enough to set off the mojo? When did that start and how are any of us still alive? But you know what, I’ll give you that. I did plan to bite the wanker; he went after that tiny girl with a bloody rifle, and I was goin’ to tear his fucking throat out. Never got that far though. Got distracted and then stabbed in the heart for my troubles. Snapped his neck in the next heartbeat. Was on the ground feelin’ like someone had set me on fire almost immediately.” 

One of the vampires piped up from the crowd. “So...you didn’t feed or nothin’, and it still went off?”

Another replied, “Sure, dumbass! He still killed the fucker, didn’t he?”

One of the older vampires, a man who had been turned late enough in life to have silver streaking through his dark hair, looked thoughtful before replying. “Yes, but in defense of self and another. The man was not killed out of malice or with an intent to feed. The oath given to us specified those terms. It was never said that harm or death by accident or in defense would result in the same effect.”

The crowd began to shift uneasily. The gravity of what had just been set seemed to be sinking in even for the youngest. As a general rule, they let the humans be; better not to know one’s dinner too personally. Accidents happened, though, and it had never occurred that they might pay for such an accident with their own unlife. Self-control wasn’t one of the defining features of their kind, and suddenly their everyday interactions felt threatening. 

“Has it always been like that? I don’t remember that when we agreed. So what - we’re out hunting with the humans and we accidentally break a bone or break skin in the chase - we’re gonna die now? Or they dishonor a trade and attack; we’re the ones gonna pay for the injury or death?” 

Axel’s question seemed to spark a frenzy; suddenly everyone seemed to be imagining scenarios that might result in an accidental or defensive injury or death. The din of their voices rose in level until it seemed everyone was shouting at Angel, Spike, and each other. 

Angel’s roar cut everyone off; the room quieted in moments, and all attention returned to the master vampire. Fierce as he could be, Angel very rarely allowed any obvious emotion to show when he was in front of them. At that moment, however, their normally stoic leader was very clearly enraged.

He fixed Spike with an intense, probing look. “You swear - you swear on that little girl’s life that you aren’t just covering your own sorry ass?”

Spike nodded solemnly, his voice biting and harsh. “Yeah. I swear. And what’s more, the witch confirmed it. Said she was afraid that someone would lose control or some shite like that. Wanted to keep the saintly humans safe at all costs.” 

Angel was silent for a moment, and in place of his reply, the other vampires began to mutter and growl amongst themselves again. One of the younger ones stepped out in front of Angel and demanded, “So? What are you gonna do about this? No human is gonna muzzle me! I agreed to the damned oath to keep peace and feed easier. No one said anything about being toothless!” 

Another added, “We leave all the tasty snacks alone like we’re good little housebroken dogs, so they forget that we’re wolves! If this had been one of us, they’d be calling for our dust! The witch deserves to die! She’s so scared of vamps out of control; let’s show her out of control! Drain her dry! Rip her throat out and let’s feast on her!” 

Spike shook his head at the ignorance of youth, pointedly ignoring his own tendency towards drama. “You stupid prats! You want the whole camp to turn on you? Want to give up all those peaceful trades for nothing but deer shite? How many humans d’you think are left? You bugger this up by fucking with the witch without thinking and you dusting will be the least of your worries!” 

“I suppose you’ve got it all figured out then?” Angel’s expression was back to his typical cold calm and his tone matched, but the deep gold flashing in his eyes betrayed the rage beneath the surface. 

Spike snorted disdainfully. “Of course not! The whole thing’s a bloody mess, innit? Can’t off the witch without the humans revolting and dusting us at best. Can’t get the oath removed quietly; she’ll think she’s gotten away with it without consequence. Not to mention that I wouldn’t trust her word on taking it off anyhow. Can’t banish her without the previously mentioned revolt. Can’t trust her to rework the oath; can’t leave this one in place without being toothless. So no, I don’t have it all figured it out. No idea what we can do that won’t cause the whole bloody place to implode!” 

Angel’s expression shifted; Spike could swear he’d gone and pulled an Angelus from the deviously calculating look in his eyes. Soul or no, Angel was a vampire first and hadn’t earned his reputation without cause.

Angel’s voice carried out over the crowd and silenced the few remaining conversations. “All right, here’s how this is going to go. No one knew about this except for the witch, it sounds like. Tomorrow night we’ll call a meeting with the reps from each of the communities. I’ll have several of you attend, and Willow will be asked to attend as well. We’ll play the deception part of this; maybe even concede that she could have been right about the danger. But, hold on now —” He stopped to wave down a few dissenters. “But, we hone in on the choice factor. Vampires were tricked into this and were blood-bound to an oath that was deceptive. What’s to stop her from doing the same to another group? She uses magic all the time in her healing. What’s to keep her from deciding that the Listers or the Loose skinned demons pose a threat next and putting them under what is essentially a curse? Better yet, what’s to keep her from doing it to humans? They all accept her magic when they’re in pain; what’s to stop her from adding a little something extra?”

He paused for a moment, letting them process the idea before he continued. “At the end of the day, the argument is going to be that she was right because we need blood. They’ll say it was the best because they fear us. However, if that was the case, she should have been honest about the intent and let us deal with it as a camp as we do everything else. We shift the distrust from us to her. Let them wonder what she’ll do next if it’s their kind she fears. Do that, and even if we can’t banish her, the trust people have in her will be shattered. To try and get that back, she might do anything...remove the oath, even?” 

Spike grinned at Angel’s suggestion.  _ Ah, Angelus, ever the manipulative politician.  _ Around him, the other vampires murmured to each other until they’d all said what they felt they needed to say. Five minutes later, everyone was in agreement as far as the plan. No one would say anything until the following night, and everyone would stay in pairs or more to keep any “accidents” from happening. No one was to confront Willow under pain of Angel’s anger. 

When it had seemed to be wrapping up, Spike turned to walk away. It had been long enough; Dawn had to be worried by now. He didn’t get farther than a few yards before Angel called him back. “Hold it, Spike. Got a few more questions for you.”

Most of the younger vamps left, leaving only 5 or so with Angel and himself. He’d had a feeling he wasn’t going to get away without explaining his ‘miraculous recovery’. He still didn’t feel right about revealing Buffy’s secret to the others. He didn’t even know if her being a potential had anything to do with the healing; better not to rile the others up more than they already were. 

Spike resisted the urge to go on the defense and simply leaned against Angel’s platform. “Yeah, what’s there left?” 

The older vampire who’d spoken up earlier wasted no time. “You should be dead. How is it that you are not?” 

_ Ah. Straight to the point, then. Right, _ he thought wryly. He’d been trying to come up with a suitable answer, but most of what he’d considered sounded asinine even to him. At the end of the day, Spike figured a simple answer was less likely to cause suspicion than a noticeably complicated one. 

He shrugged indifferently. “Don’t rightly know. One minute I’m lyin’ on the floor working on an internal tan; then the girl offered her blood, and I took it. Next thing I know, I’m fine.” 

The other vampire raised an eyebrow. “This was a...consensual feed?”

“She shoved her soddin’ wrist in my mouth. The hell do you think? Don’t think she meant for me to drain her, but there you have it.” Spike very carefully set his body language to show arrogance and mild irritation; it wouldn’t do to have them focusing too much on what Buffy had done or why. 

The other vampire looked thoughtful for a moment; then turned to Angel. “We know so little about the actual parameters of the oath. Perhaps the willing offering of blood was enough to cancel out the perceived harm committed?”

Angel looked at Spike suspiciously. “So, the only thing that happened between you getting hit with the magic and you healing was drinking from her? Nothing else?”

“‘S what I said, innit? Pain, blood, then - poof - no more pain!” The explosive gesture Spike made with his hands might have been a bit over the top, but it seemed to irritate Angel; which was always a bit of all right. He almost blew it all when one of the others made a comment that about had him whipping his head around in surprise.

“Well, that’s gotta be it then, right? Like the old man said before, maybe she gave it willingly and that broke the mojo or somethin’. Not like there’s anything special about the girl’s blood or anything, right?” 

If he hadn’t been looking at Angel to keep himself from reacting, Spike would have missed it. The moment Buffy’s blood was mentioned, Angel’s eyes widened and his frown deepened. He looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. 

_ Well, bollocks. He knows.  _ Spike wasn’t sure how exactly Angel knew about just how Buffy’s blood could be so special, but he knew. The question was, why hadn’t he said anything? What possible reason would there be for Angel to protect Buffy’s ‘identity’ that way? Spike’s own reasons for withholding the information were purely selfish; he didn’t want some other demon trying their hand at a potential for the hell of it when Spike himself hadn’t yet decided if he wanted a go. But Angelus having that knowledge...well, that just didn’t bode well, as far as Spike was concerned. 

Time enough to deal with that later though. Spike figured he’d better contribute to the conversation before anyone noticed his silence. “Yeah, makes as much sense as any idea, I s’pose. Could’ve been a bloody accident, too. Doubt the witch planned for a way around her spell. Point of fact, she was right brassed when she found me still a member of the unliving.” 

The others nodded in understanding, and Spike hoped that meant the conversation was nearly over. He could have kissed Angel when he spoke up as though reading Spike’s mind. “No way to know for sure what happened there, but we’ll keep it in mind when we speak with Willow tomorrow. For now, everyone remember to keep your mouths shut until tomorrow.” 

With that, he waved them away. Spike slipped past the others and made his way quickly out the door. His errands had taken significantly longer than he’d anticipated; he wondered if the little one had tried to stay up and wait for him. His demon gave a token grumble at the idea of wanting some human child’s affection, but apparently even it had taken a liking to being needed as much as Dawn seemed to need him. 

As soon as he cleared the tree line of the camp and entered the woods, Spike broke into a run. At full speed, the trip to his home took a matter of minutes. When he reached the front door, he noticed that someone had already been by and put some wide boards across where the window had shattered. Spike focused in and could make out two heartbeats. One of them was slow and even, and Spike took that to mean that Dawn had already gone to sleep. Good. 

He opened the door slowly, careful to avoid any potential debris that might still be on the floor. To his surprise, the floor was clear and the damaged chair was gone. Wes was seated on the floor on a sleeping bag stretched across Dawn’s doorway, one of Spike’s books in one hand and a pistol in the other. He raised it quickly when Spike opened the door, and Spike quickly raised his hands in defense. 

“Whoa, Watcher! Just me.” 

Wes sighed and lowered the weapon. “I was beginning to think maybe my luck had changed and something had eaten you on the way.” 

Spike smirked and answered, “Sorry to disappoint, mate. Maybe one of these days, the bloody raccoons will get lucky.” 

Wes gave a tired smile in response. Spike tilted his head towards the door. “The Bit all right?”

Wes nodded and leaned his head back against the door. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. She was quite anxious when you had not returned by midnight, but I finally convinced her to try to sleep.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sang every bloody lullaby I could remember my mum singing, and a few I made up on the spot.” His hand stopped halfway and he fixed Spike with a glare. “If you tell anyone that, I’ll stake you myself.”

Spike grinned and crossed his finger over his heart. “Your secret’s safe, Watcher. Now go on, then. You’re lookin’ a bit knackered. I’ll keep watch.”

Wes glanced behind him at the door, then back at Spike. “Remember that conversation about my not trusting you? How do I know I can leave her alone with you?”

Spike was getting tired of this conversation. Used to be that taking a blade for someone was enough to prove that you didn’t plan on turning them into dinner.

“I reckon you don’t. Can only tell you so many times that I’m not out to hurt the girl. Plenty of times before today I could have killed her if that’s what I wanted.”

Wes sighed tiredly and nodded. “I suppose there’s only so many times I can threaten to stake or dismember you in one night before it becomes redundant. Very well. I’ll be back at first light to check in and let you rest as well.” He pushed himself up, dusted off his pants, and made his way towards the door. 

After Wes had shut the door behind himself, Spike allowed himself to reach for the door to Dawn’s room and open it quietly. The candle in the main room didn’t provide enough light for his human eyes, but his demon eyes worked just fine. He made his way to Dawn’s bed, taking in the sight of the little girl curled into a tight ball around Buffy’s pillow. In sleep, she looked completely innocent, right down to the remaining white pieces of fluff in her hair from her earlier roll around the hills with Buffy. Her face told a different story, however. Her heart rate was elevated and her eyebrows were furrowed as if she was in distress. 

Before he truly considered it, he reached out and ran a hand across the top of her head. She calmed almost immediately; and though he hadn’t meant to wake her up, Spike wasn’t disappointed to see her eyelids flutter open. 

“Spike? You’re back.” Her words were slow and sleepy, and she stretched into a yawn before continuing. She didn’t seem even remotely disturbed to have him at her bedside with fangs and ridges on full display. His demon bristled at her lack of fear, and for a brief moment, he considered what he could do or say to change that. The ideas melted away, however, when she reached out and grabbed his hand. 

“Is Buffy okay? Wes told me she got hurt and had to go see Miss Tara.” 

Spike swallowed thickly. Her tiny hand felt like a firebrand in his, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to tear his hand away or hold on tighter. He settled for staying perfectly still. “Y-yeah, Bit. She’s doin’ all right. Got to talk to her a bit when she was awake, so seems like the witches are treatin’ her all right. She’ll be right as rain before you know it!” 

Dawn frowned like she wanted to say more, but seemed to be losing the battle with exhaustion. Spike had just about decided to pull his hand away and tuck her back in when she whispered, “Will you stay with me? Buffy sleeps with me and...It’s scary when it’s so dark.” 

He almost said no. He almost growled and told her that he wasn’t a bloody teddy bear or watchdog. He almost hinted that creatures like him were the reason she should be afraid of the dark. 

Instead, he nodded silently, settled himself to sit on top of the covers on Buffy’s side of the bed, and let her wrap her arms around his waist. It only made his insides twinge a little. When she mumbled a sleepy “Night, Spike, don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he dropped a kiss to the top of her head and whispered, “Night, Bit.” 


	14. Verbena officinalis (Verbena Flower)

**_Verbena officinalis (Verbena Flower)_ **

Buffy woke slowly, the warmth of sunshine and the low, unintelligible sounds of voices holding her in the hazy place between sleep and wakefulness. However, the pull of the real world eventually became irresistible; so, she forced her eyes open, wincing when the too-bright morning sun made them burn. It took a moment for the world to come crashing back in; images and sensations flashing like lightning in her mind until she felt as if she was back in the cabin with Spike’s fangs buried into her wrist. For a moment, she could almost swear she felt the sharp pain of his bite and the grip of his hand on her arm. 

When Buffy shook her head violently to clear the memories away, she was rewarded with a flash of sharp pain. She raised her hand instinctively to her head and noticed the bandages around her wrist and elbows.  _ Elbows? What did I — _

A gurgle from across the room caught her attention and interrupted her thoughts. She slowly pushed herself up on her arms and scanned the room. She almost collapsed again when she found the source of the sound. Across the room, Jessie sat in another one of the clinic’s small beds smiling softly at a bundle of blankets in her arms. 

Buffy must have gasped or made some sort of noticeable noise; Jessie raised her head and smiled widely when she caught Buffy’s gaze. “Hey, you’re awake! When you slept all through the main event, I was a little worried that you were kinda lost to us.” 

Another sound came from the bundle in her arms, drawing both women’s attention again. Jessie tilted her arms slightly, giving Buffy a glimpse of the squirming infant. Jessie noticed Buffy’s awestruck expression and smiled reassuringly before leaning to kiss her baby’s head. “We don’t see many babies these days, do we? I was afraid during labor...what if I carried her all this way and lost her here? But here she is; perfect and beautiful and whole!” 

Buffy was still staring wide-eyed at the baby. Her view was limited from the bed, but she could see the pale head topped with dark fuzz squirming every so often in the safety of the swaddle. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was still experiencing side effects from the blood loss, but she was sure she’d never been so in awe of an infant before. She sat up straighter to get a better look but still couldn’t see very well. 

Jessie gave Buffy an amused grin and said, “You can come hold her if you want. I can’t go very far what with my bits and pieces still being out of sorts; but if you’re feelin’ all right, you can come to us.”

Buffy broke out of whatever haze she’d been in and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I just...like you said, I haven’t seen a baby in a long time. Before everything, I didn’t really care about babies, but you kinda took for granted that they were everywhere, y’know?”

Jessie nodded; Buffy carefully shifted her body to the side of the bed, testing its strength before she tried to stand. When she’d successfully gotten her legs over the side of the bed without any dizziness or pain, she braced her hands on the side of the bed in order to push herself up. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of bright color. There on the small table beside her bed sat a large cup with a sprig of beautiful pink flowers. When she noticed that there weren’t flowers on any of the tables around the room, her brows furrowed in confusion. 

From across the room, Jessie saw Buffy’s expression and laughed. “That fella you and Dawn are staying with brought those by last night. Course, I was in the middle of delivering Little Miss here, and I thought he was gonna keel over right there at the door at the sight of all the blood and all my usually hidden parts out for God’n everybody to see!” Jessie paused and blushed, chuckling nervously. “I may — well, I might have told him to quit gawking and come help or get his behind out the door. Didn’t see him again till it was all over and done with.” Past her blush, Buffy could see a mirthful glint in Jessie’s eyes. 

Buffy sputtered in disbelief. “He —Jessie, Spike’s a vampire! What were you thinking, calling him over when you were bleeding like that?”

Jessie let out a tired laugh. “I was thinking I was 1000 miles and several months separated from the nearest epidural while shoving something watermelon-sized out my hoo-ha, and I didn’t have time for anyone wanting to make it into a spectator sport!” 

Buffy blushed a little at the visual; but when she pictured Spike’s expression when faced with a raging woman in the throes of labor, she couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped. It was short-lived, however, when another thought occurred. 

“You said he brought the flowers last night?” 

Jessie nodded and adjusted the sleeping infant to her other arm. 

Buffy swallowed nervously. “Jessie, do you know how long I’ve been here? I know...I remember waking up a few times when it’s been light or dark, so I don’t know—” She trailed off helplessly, suddenly very afraid of the answer. 

Jessie looked at Buffy sympathetically. “About four days, I think. There was a big to-do three days ago involving the red-headed witch, Willow, and I think you were here before that.”

Four days? She’d been here and basically unconscious for four whole days?  _ Oh, God — Dawn!”  _

“Dawn — Jessie, do you know where Dawn’s been while I’ve been here?” 

“Oh sure, honey. Dawn’s been with that guy — Spike, was it? He was tellin’ you all about her last night.”

Buffy didn’t remember. “He was? What did he say?” 

Jessie laughed and shook her head. “Well, I was a bit preoccupied at the time figuring Little Miss out, so I wasn’t exactly taking notes. But...I remember him saying something about her missin’ you and him teaching her a card game or something.” 

Dawn was with Spike. Buffy was here, and Dawn was with Spike, and probably had been for several days. Buffy wondered if she should question how relieved that made her, what with Spike’s dietary needs. He wasn’t a threat to Dawn, though. Buffy remembered the knife sticking out of his chest; the knife he’d been stabbed with while defending Dawn. He’d almost died for Dawn; then he’d almost killed Buffy. 

_ It was an accident, Buffy! You knew what could happen when you practically served your blood up on a silver platter to the feral vampire. What did you expect — that he would take dainty sips with his pinky out and stop the moment you started to get dizzy? _

_...Maybe?  _

If she were honest with herself, she really hadn’t considered what might happen when she offered her wrist to him. She’d never been bitten before him; and although the bite before had been very painful, she’d known he was being as gentle as he could. She had no frame of reference for the brutal tearing and agony that had come from trying to save his life. She’d almost been thankful for the dizziness that had caused her world to fade because it took away some of the excruciating pain of having her life pulled out through her veins. 

But then...he’d been visiting her, apparently; even bringing her flowers. Information from her trusty guide came tumbling back into her still-fuzzy brain and she recognized the blooms. Verbena - a fragrant wildflower that stood for healing and protection from harm. She wondered if Spike knew the meaning of the flowers or if he’d simply come across them on the way. Spike didn’t seem the type to know the “language” of plants, but it did seem a little too on the nose to be a coincidence. 

Jessie must have noticed how Buffy’s expression darkened because she changed her tone to a soothing, encouraging tone. “Hey, honey — I’m sure Dawn’s fine. And really, four days is nothing. You must have one heckuva guardian angel watchin’ out for you for you to be doing so well after losing a bunch of blood! Now come on over here and meet my Little Miss!”

Buffy understood that telling the other woman what had really caused her shift in expression would be a bad idea. A new mother with extra-protective instincts probably didn’t need to hear exactly how Buffy had ended up in that bed. If Jessie knew, Buffy doubted that she’d have been so gracious about the vampire who’d nearly killed Buffy being so close to her new baby. 

With a reassuring smile, Buffy pushed herself off the bed and stood. She wobbled a bit and her head spun, but she managed to stay upright. She took short, shuffling steps that seemed to take her only inches at a time, but she made her way to the other side of the room with no assistance. 

When she reached Jessie’s bed, Buffy flopped down as gently as she could; it was, however, enough to wake the baby. The little girl squeezed her closed eyelids together and opened her mouth in a disgruntled wail. 

“Oh geez, Jessie, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean —”

“Shh, honey; it’s fine. This is what babies do! Now, now, Little One, none of that! Mama’s here, Baby. No need for all that noise!” 

Buffy wondered how Jessie seemed so calm and natural as a mother. She seemed to instinctively know what to do. This was in direct opposition to Buffy’s experience as a surrogate parent, where she’d struggled and agonized over every single decision made in relation to Dawn and had never felt that any of it was instinctive. Maybe it was the process of giving birth. After surviving the experience of pushing something so big out of such a tiny hole, did everything else feel easy?

When the little girl calmed at her mother’s voice, Jessie held her arms out and offered her to Buffy. 

“Jessie, are you sure? I’m not — I’ve never even babysat!”

“You’ll be fine, Sugar. Just mind her head and rock a bit.”

Buffy wasn’t sure what surprised her more: the slight weight of the baby in her arms or the sharp, immediate instinct to protect her. Buffy rocked the little girl back and forth, eyes glued to the tiny face as though looking away for a moment would cause her to miss something important. When she heard Jessie’s quiet laugh, Buffy finally tore her gaze away. 

Jessie smiled and said, “I know. I know exactly how you’re feeling right now. I’ve been keeping her safe for 10 months now, but I feel like I didn’t understand what being a mom would feel like until they put her into my arms. I finally get all those Discovery channel shows about mama bears and their cubs. Makes you want to just hide her away from all of the awful parts of this world, doesn’t it?”

Buffy nodded absently, once again entranced by the tiny girl. For a being that didn’t do much more than yawn, cry, and squirm, she had successfully captured Buffy’s full attention. She suddenly thought of Dawn. 

“How do you...Do you just know what to do? About being a mom?”

Jessie shook her head. “Not even a little bit. I only got pregnant after the world went all to hell. There weren’t any trips to an OBGYN or ultrasounds for me; no pregnancy books or classes to be had. I’ve spent the past 10 months praying she just came out okay with all her bits where they ought to be. I figure if parents have been making it up as they go since the beginning of time, we’ll be okay.”

“That sounds really wise. How’s it working so far?”

Jessie’s loud laughter caused the baby to stir again. “I’ll let you know when the world stops spinning. Right now I’m still dealing with the fact that no one mentioned how much bleeding you did AFTER the birth or the fact that your baby’s first poop looks like tar and smells as nice!” 

Just as Buffy was about to respond, Tara walked into the room, a haggard and distressed look on her face. Her eyes widened when she saw Buffy sitting at the edge of the bed with the infant. “Oh! Buffy, you’re awake!”

Buffy smiled and nodded. “Yup, still kicking! Figured I’d been napping long enough.”

“That’s great! How are you feeling? Any pain?”

“Not really. I was a little dizzy when I stood up and I had a bit of a headache before, but I’m okay now.”

Tara walked over to the bed and started checking Buffy over, stopping to smile at the baby and brush a hand over her fuzzy head. After a few minutes of checking vitals and responses, Tara seemed satisfied. 

“Well, you seem to be recovering very well! I thought you might be healing for a few more days, but your responses are all great! I think as long as you take it easy, you should be able to go soon.”

Buffy almost slumped in relief. Even knowing Dawn was safe with Spike; she still worried and wanted to see the little girl for herself. Besides, added with Dawn’s stay at the clinic, Buffy felt as though she’d spent far too much time in the building already. “Could I go by tonight, do you think?”

Tara thought for a moment before nodding. “I think so. I’ll send someone to go find Wes in a little while. I bet he’d help you get back. If you waited long enough, I bet Spike would be by too.”

Buffy couldn’t help the stab of curiosity or her next question. “He’s...So he’s come by a lot?”

Tara smiled softly and nodded again. “Every night. He hasn’t stayed very long; I think he’s been sticking pretty close to Dawn these past few days. But for at least a little while each evening, I’ve been able to find him sitting next to your bed and telling you about her.”

Buffy felt a ball of warmth in her chest at the image Tara presented; it was followed quickly by an anxious nervousness. Why had Spike been visiting her? Guilt? No...from everything Giles had told her about vampires, Buffy knew that they didn’t feel guilt. It wouldn’t make sense for him to feel bad about her ending up in the clinic. But if not guilt, then what? He had no reason to care about her welfare. It was Dawn he’d promised to protect, not Buffy. He might be sticking close to the little girl out of obligation, but surely no one was making him visit her every night. No one was making him bring her flowers. 

One glance at the beautiful verbena blooms brought the warmth back. Spike had done a lot of things that were in direct contrast to what she knew of vampires. He was supposed to be taking advantage of them. He was supposed to be manipulative and indifferent. He wasn’t supposed to do things like visit her bedside when no one would notice if he didn’t or tell her about Dawn when he couldn’t know if she’d hear. 

It finally registered that Tara was still talking. “It might be better to have you wait till later anyway. There will be fewer people out at night and you wouldn’t have to worry about people being nosy or in your way. That would also give you some time to eat something and rest a bit more just to be sure everything’s healing all right.”

Buffy nodded obediently, her stomach growling at the mention of food. “Sure, Tara. Now that you mention it…” she trailed off just as her stomach rumbled loudly. 

Tara chuckled wryly. “Yeah, I’ll bet food sounds pretty good right now. I don’t have much here at the clinic right now, but we could send one of the little boys to see what’s at the chow hall?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, that sounds great!” 

“No, no trouble. I’ll go find someone then. You just keep snuggling that baby and giving Jessie a break. Did you decide on a name, Jessie?”

Jessie nodded happily. “I sure did. This sweet miracle’s name is Hope. I’ve been hoping to meet her for a long time, and here she is!”

Buffy thought that was the perfect name for the little girl. She looked down at Hope, who had fallen asleep again sometime during the conversation. 

She leaned down and whispered, “Hello, Miss Hope. Welcome to the world!”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Tara walked up the steps of the clinic building to the tiny loft that served as a living space for her and Willow. It wasn’t much. Neither of them had come with anything of significance from their former lives except for each other. Regardless, the space was warm and inviting; it felt like home now. Flowers and herbs hung drying from the rafters, and the earthy scent of them was comforting and familiar. 

She reached the top of the stairs and looked over at their bed. Tara frowned and let out a heavy sigh when she saw that Willow was still in bed where she’d been over two hours ago when Tara had needed to leave to check on their patients. Her lover’s bright red hair was lank and uncombed; Tara had offered to brush it out before she’d left, but Willow had shook her head and rolled away from her. 

Tara worried about what would happen if she couldn’t get Willow out of bed soon. Willow hadn’t eaten since the incident at Spike’s cabin when she’d run into the clinic and collapsed into Tara’s arms sobbing. For a few minutes, Tara hadn’t been able to get anything out of her but “I’m sorry, baby! I’m so sorry!” between sobs so violent they shook them both. 

Tara’s confusion faded into cold horror when Willow haltingly admitted what she’d done. Tara had helped Willow create the magic of the vampire’s oath, but had not been the one to administer the spell herself. In terms of power, Willow had always been the stronger of them, so it had made sense to let her do it. She wanted to. She’d been excited at the chance to be the force behind something so binding and intricate. She’d chattered for days about the rush of it, the fire. 

Now Tara knew why. Her love, her sweet, smiling Willow….oh goddess, what had she done? Tara bit her lip to distract herself from the desire to cry. She recalled Willow’s description of the scene at the cabin; how Spike had somehow survived the effects of the oath’s retribution. Even in her shame, Willow had sounded vaguely annoyed that the vampire had somehow outsmarted her magic. 

It had been no surprise when one of Angel’s messenger boys had come in while they were still sobbing in each other’s arms. Well, to Tara, at least. Willow’s eyes had widened in shock, and Tara noted that some of Willow’s tears had dried in favor of frustration when she’d questioned the boy as to the purpose of the meeting. The child, of course, knew nothing more than he’d been told. 

The 24 hours leading up to the community meeting had been harrowing for both women. At night, Tara had held her love while she cried. When the tears had dried for a moment, Willow had pulled Tara close and begged her to make love. Unsure of what else to do to calm her, Tara had agreed. She’d tried to be slow and soothing, placing soft kisses all over Willow’s body. Something in her felt like she needed to memorize the feel, the scent, the taste of her lover’s skin. Who knew what the new day would bring? 

Willow had only allowed the tenderness for a time before her own desperate desire to push the day’s events away had led her to roll Tara beneath her and focus her inner storm on her partner. Tara had tried to focus on Willow’s soft hands slipping between her thighs; tried to dwell on the familiar fire that only her love could ignite. It felt hollow. Even when Willow’s hands and mouth had stroked and teased her to the edge of her pleasure, Tara had felt empty. 

Willow had seemed intent on pouring herself into Tara, and for a brief moment, Tara had allowed it. She’d focused on the feel of blunt fingernails scratching at her belly, her thighs. She’d treasured the hard push of fingers inside of her; the feel of burning from the inside out. She’d tried to reach down to bury her fingers in her lover’s beautiful, flame-colored hair. Threading her hands into Willow’s hair while she went down on Tara had always felt intensely erotic. It was like trying to hold onto a writhing fire, and was one of her favorite things to do when they made love; but Willow had pushed Tara’s hands away from her hair and to her own breasts, encouraging Tara to stroke and tease herself. Even as Tara felt the pleasure spread from her pussy all the way to her fingertips until she tensed in anticipation...it still felt wrong.

The end had come quickly; which was almost a disappointment. Tara’s orgasms had always felt like a wave with Willow. Sometimes they were soft and lapping like the tide coming in. Other times, they were tidal waves that left Tara shaking in the wake of their power. This one had felt like a bomb going off. There was a moment of bright, explosive fire that had knocked her back in its intensity; but afterward, Tara felt as though there was nothing left but broken, shattered debris between them. 

She’d reached for Willow, hoping that bringing her lover pleasure would take the awful, bone deep ache away, but Willow had shook her head and crawled back up Tara’s body to hold her close. She’d said that she was fine and had only wanted Tara to know that she loved her. With that, she’d laid her head on Tara’s chest and closed her eyes.

The next day, Willow had gone back and forth between tearful shame over her deception, and indignant outrage that people wouldn’t understand the wisdom of what she’d done. Tara had stroked her hair through the tears and sat quietly on the bed through most of the indignation. She’d done what she did so well: listen. 

As nightfall approached, Willow had begun to grow frantic. She’d refused to eat, refused to sleep; and refused to speak to anyone except for Tara. Tara had worried each time she’d had to leave to check on their patients that Willow might do something drastic in her anxiety. She hated to question Willow that way, but Tara wasn’t naive. Willow was a powerful witch, and a perfectionist to boot. She didn’t like to be questioned, and Tara had known her to go to great lengths to cover up mistakes before. So, she kept as close an eye on Willow as she could and prayed to the goddess that Willow wouldn’t do anything foolish. 

The meeting itself had been brutal. Tara had stood quietly beside Willow and held her hand tightly until Angel had called Willow forward. Tara had watched the drama unfold in front her, helplessly wringing her hands. She wanted to defend Willow. She did. She wanted to step forward and shield the other woman from the anger being directed at her. 

There was a part of her — a quiet part — that rebelled, however. That part of her remembered a family that had taken her choices from her; they’d tried to control her actions, thoughts, and even her feelings. After listening to exactly what Willow had done to the vampires; Tara couldn’t help but feel a streak of white-hot rage. It was one thing to perform magic with a being’s consent and knowledge; it was another matter altogether to perform magic when the victim had no knowledge or ability to consent. In Tara’s mind, just as doctors took an oath to do no harm, so did they as witches. It was not their place to use their magic to take people’s autonomy away. 

Tara listened and watched as the conversation ebbed and flowed like the tide. At first, it had seemed as though many of the humans and even some of the demons sympathized with Willow and why she had done what she had. As the discussion progressed, Tara noted that the sympathy began to shift. It seemed that every time Angel invited a new person to speak, they raised a new point about the danger in what Willow had done or could do, and before Tara knew it, they all seemed to be in agreement that Willow had committed an unforgivable act. Tara wasn’t sure that they were wrong. 

The final verdict was that while Willow’s deception was grave and could not be overlooked or forgiven, the camp was too desperately in need of healers to justify shunning her completely. Effective immediately, Tara would begin training two new assistants in the clinic so that people would be able to rely on more than just the two witches in an emergency. Willow would be forbidden from practicing any magic on another being until such a time as the community met again to permit it. Any healing magic would be performed by Tara, and Willow would only be allowed to practice magic on herself. Should she violate this rule, the community leaders would meet again to discuss further action such as banishment or finding a way to bind her magic permanently. Tara had flinched when they’d suggested that. While it was possible to do, taking a person’s magic was like removing a limb. It would hurt and feel unnatural, and she didn’t want that for Willow. 

Last of all, they agreed that the original oath would be removed from the vampires, and further conversation would be needed by the community leaders to decide if a new one should be put in place. Tara felt cold at the thought of the vengeful demons suddenly being able to kill with malice again. Would Willow survive the negotiations? 

Willow had tearfully thanked Angel for his mercy and turned to leave. They’d almost gotten out the door when one of the vampires had shoved past her and whispered that he and others would not rest until her blood stained the floor and filled their bellies. Tara had pulled Willow close and walked her home; her hands had run up and down her love’s arms the whole way. 

Now, several days later, Willow barely slept and still refused to eat. While Tara couldn’t bring herself to agree with what her lover had done, she didn’t want her to die. As she looked at Willow still lying in the bed, hair unkempt and body unwashed, Tara wondered how they’d ever get past this. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Spike watched Dawn flit around the house like a fairy. They’d found an acceptable rhythm between them in the past few days, but sometimes apparently a little girl just needed to twirl around the room. Big girls too, he supposed. Dru had certainly done it often enough. He remembered days of her twirling around their room; she’d sing quiet songs to the stars that she’d swear she could see in the daytime. Every so often she’d pull him up to dance with her and she’d sway in his arms and tell him the names of all of them.

That wasn’t to say that all of her moods were so innocent. Especially towards the end, Dru was just as likely to claim that those stars had told her about some apocalyptic goings on or some heinous crime that Spike had committed against her as she was to sing to them. He’d learned to give her a wide berth on those days; she’d be less a floating fairy and more a whirling dervish. 

Watching Dawn was different. Dawn wouldn’t sing like Dru had. She wouldn’t invite him to dance with her around the room. Every so often, she’d just feel like floating in circles around the room, laughing and twirling until she landed in a heap on the floor. Then she’d sit for a moment until the world stopped spinning, look at him with an impish grin, and begin again. When she tired of that game, she’d come over and flop onto the rug in front of his chair and beg him to read her a story or teach her a new game.

Wesley had been by each day and glared at Spike less frequently as time went on. Spike thought maybe he was starting to believe Spike about his intention to protect the girl. The morning after Dawn had asked Spike to stay while she slept, Spike had woken to the sound of someone choking. He’d opened his eyes to find the Watcher looking like he’d swallowed his tongue. At first he’d been tempted to tell the other man to sod off and let him sleep, but Dawn’s sleepy sigh had reminded him of exactly where he was. 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’d sat stiffly on the bed for hours while Dawn slept. The sun had just begun to hint at rising when Spike had tried to pry her arms gently from around his middle. She’d whimpered in her sleep and clung to him like a leech. He hadn’t wanted to wake the girl when she was finally sleeping peacefully, so he’d resigned himself to waiting until Wesley came back. He’d tightened his arm around the little girl’s shoulder. tucked his chin over her head, and sighed longsufferingly. The things he did for his Niblet. 

The next thing he knew, he was facing an increasingly red-faced Watcher. Spike knew what it must look like to the other man, but the idea that he’d allow anyone - even himself- to treat the girl in such a way caused a deep growl to escape from his chest. 

He’d succeeded in slipping out of the little girl’s grasp without waking her that time and followed Wesley out to the main room. The other man had spent several minutes sputtering about propriety and how Dawn was in a delicate and traumatized state already. Spike had rolled his eyes before grumbling about how very little he cared about propriety and that he wouldn’t let the little chit be afraid and alone in the dark. Before Wesley could argue more, Spike had turned and stalked away to his own room to sleep. As far as he was concerned, Wesley could try to tell the girl no and see how far it got him. 

Things had only gotten more tense that evening. The confrontation with the witch had gone about as smoothly as expected; which is to say, it had been a veritable dumpster fire. Even Angel hadn’t been able to control the raging emotions from both sides of the debate, and more than one attendee had had to be removed. One unlucky demon had even gotten socked in the nose by an overeager, middle aged housewife. 

In the middle of it all had sat Willow: tears flowing silently the whole time. When her time to defend her actions had come, she’d haltingly apologized. Her claim was that she’d only meant to keep people safe. Before Ultimum Spes, there had never been a place where humans and demons lived so closely together with the expectation of peace; who could predict what might happen if during the growing period, tempers ran hot? She’d only wanted to help, and she’d never meant for something like this to happen. It was an impressive load of shit, if anyone asked him. 

Angel had manipulated the conversation masterfully. Really, Spike had to give the devil his due - watching the other man subtly guide questions and discussions to where he wanted them was like watching a conductor during a symphony. Although the majority of the humans present had started out siding with the witch, even with her deception, by the end they’d mostly been brought around. While, as they predicted, most were not in favor of giving the witch the boot, there was an agreement that Willow was forbidden from performing magic on any being for the foreseeable future. Tara would still be able to perform any healing magic, and Willow could practice magic within her own home so long as it affected no one but herself. Should she fail to meet those requirements, she’d have to leave permanently. 

The vampires and demons had grumbled, but agreed with the stipulation that the vampires would be released from the current oath until there had been more time to discuss the matter. Tara would do the magic, of course. When a few of the humans had spoken out against it for fear of retaliation, Xander had come forward and reminded them that they’d managed fine before. They’d worked and traded and fought together, and that they should rely on those connections now. Angel had agreed and, after giving the other vampires a pointed, dangerous look, had assured the other residents that no one was in any danger. 

By the time it was all over, everyone seemed wrung out. When the meeting finally dismissed, the longhouse had emptied almost completely without conversation. It wasn’t often that such a large camp was so quiet; it had felt eerie and uncomfortable. Spike had leaned against the door of the longhouse for a long time just watching the various groups do their level best to avoid one another.  _ So much for peace for all, _ he’d thought wryly. 

Now, with a few days to let minds and tempers settle, the camp seemed to be coming back to a slightly more suspicious, more reserved facsimile of itself. Trading between the communities had resumed, albeit with a tinge of paranoia. The other vampires complained that people refused to barter for blood and they were stuck with the local wildlife. Angel had met with them a few times over the past few evenings, reminding them that things would calm soon and not to invite trouble for themselves by lashing out. Time would tell, he supposed, if Angel was right. 

In the meantime, Spike’s days and evenings were busy enough to keep him from thinking about the whole situation much. Wes made sure that Dawn was fed during the day while Spike slept, and Spike would grab her dinner after he’d checked on Buffy. Tara had made it sound like she expected Buffy to wake up soon, and Spike kept hoping that he’d find her awake when he visited. They’d been quiet and fairly short trips, excepting the one where he’d walked in on the bird giving birth across the room. Though the scent of blood had been overwhelming, and his demon had immediately howled for its dinner, some long ingrained sense of Victorian modesty regarding mothers- and places that men just ought not be- had asserted itself and required that he avert his eyes and get the hell out!

Dawn’s giggles broke through Spike’s thoughts, and he remembered that, right then, he was meant to be “seeking” her. When she’d tired of spinning around the room, she’d claimed he’d ‘never find her in a million years’! It was nearly sundown, but he’d agreed; he still had time before he’d have to head into the main camp. He shook his head and rolled his eyes when he heard her heartbeat thundering away in the next room. He’d have to teach her to hide herself better. Any predator worth half his salt would find her in no time at all. For effect, he stomped around the floor and loudly called, “Fee...fi...fo...fum! I smell the blood of a nice...ripe...little girl!” 

He threw open the doors of the closet in her and Buffy’s room. Dawn let out a shrill scream, dove between his legs, and started to scramble towards the door. Instinctively, Spike growled and whipped around; it only took a matter of steps to reach her and trap her in a tight grip; he lifted her easily by both arms into the air until they were face to face. 

Spike smirked at his ‘prey’. “Got you, Bit!” 

In a matter of seconds, Dawn’s expression shifted from pink-cheeked excitement to distress. Before he’d even registered the change, Dawn was struggling frantically in his arms, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Let me go! Let me go! You’re hurting me!” 

Spike’s eyes widened in surprise and he dropped her quickly. He’d only been holding her a few feet off the ground, but Dawn still hadn’t been prepared for it and crumpled to the ground. She brought her knees up and buried her head, sobs wracking her small frame. Spike bent down immediately and reached to stroke her hair. 

“Niblet? What happened? I —”

Dawn cut him off with a glare, shrugged off his hand, and yelled, “You hurt me! You aren’t supposed to hurt me!” She pointed angrily at her arm; where Spike could make out red marks on her arms vaguely shaped like fingers...his fingers. 

“Dawn...Bit, I didn’t mean —” 

“Say you’re sorry!” 

“Wha—sorry?” Spike didn’t know if he should be worried, ashamed, or frightened. The little girl didn’t look badly hurt. Sure, he hadn’t meant to grab her so tight, but nothing was broken. His demon groused that it wasn’t his fault little humans were so fragile. 

“No! Like you mean it! Buffy says if you hurt somebody, you have to say that you’re sorry because that’s polite! Be polite, Spike!” 

Bloody hell, now the chit was pouting, lower lip and everything. Spike was having trouble keeping up with the whirlwind of emotions the girl seemed to be experiencing. He wondered if there was a vampire-to-human child dictionary somewhere that he might use to avoid this in the future. 

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he truly liked the girl. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Dawn. I didn’t mean to be so rough with you. Can you ever forgive me?”

Dawn looked down her nose at him in a far more regal manner than a seven year old should have been able to manage. Her Royal Highness considered for a moment before answering. “Yes, I’ll forgive you. Now close your eyes and count again. This time you’ll never find me!” 

Spike shook his head as Dawn jumped up and ran out of the room. He spent a moment muttering to himself about his pride as a master vampire. People and demons alike cringed in fear from him, were terrified of his rage and skill, and here he was playing a game of Hide and Seek with a child and apologizing for not knowing his own strength! What was the world coming to? He’d bloody well have to find something large to hunt later to reclaim his balls. But until then —

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” This time he didn’t stomp, but prowled around the room dramatically. “You’d better hide well, pet! Haven’t had my supper yet and I’m feeling right peckish!” He ignored the stifled giggles to his left and continued opening doors and peeking under tables to his right. 

“You’d better come out like a good girl, Niblet; cos’ if I find you, I might be tempted to just gobble you up!” He knelt to look underneath a chair, scratching his hair in exaggerated confusion. 

He was making so much noise bumping furniture that he didn’t hear the two people coming in the door. “Gonna find you, little girl! An’ when I do, I’ll huff, an’ I’ll puff, an’ I’ll —”

An amused voice from behind him spoke up. “Uhh...Spike, what are you doing?” 

“BUFFY! YOU’RE HOME!” Dawn flew past him in a brown blur.

“Oh. Right. Hullo, Buffy.” 


	15. Usnea longissima (Old man’s beard lichen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late updates! I'm much better at remembering to update over on EF, but I promise I am still working on this story!

**_Usnea longissima_ ** **(Old man’s beard lichen)**

The man hung limply from the chains on the wall, barely conscious let alone cognizant of anything happening around him. Blood trickled from wounds and slashes all over his body; bruises blossomed in various colors from pale yellow to a deep violet red. Thankfully, he’d stopped being able to feel pain some time ago. After a certain level, the body protects itself, and his ability to accept his current reality had come and gone several hours back. 

The two women sat in plush chairs a few feet away; they sipped on blood from wine glasses and considered and discussed their prisoner as though he were a work of art. The blonde admired the depths of cuts and their potential to maim or kill, while the brunette was fascinated by the patterns made on the broken skin by each glistening drop of blood. Each a connoisseur of her own type of pain; their collaboration had been his undoing. 

He’d finally broken. Over and over, he’d sworn that he’d take his secret with him. There had been such a terrible price for what he’d done, and where had it brought him? Here. To them. To agony. Now, there was nothing left of his power, his pride, or even his very self; all had been surrendered in exchange for blissful oblivion.

The women discussed his fate with amused indifference. He no longer held any value; no reason to keep him alive. But what to do? Slice his throat like the lamb before slaughter that he was? Offer him to the energetic fledglings? They were always so hungry. A snack for themselves? No, that wouldn’t do. One claimed that he’d taste sour like lemons and his pulp would get stuck in her teeth. The other rolled her eyes and told her companion to suit herself. 

When they’d finished their drinks, they’d risen gracefully from their chairs and approached him. There was too much to do, one said. They had no time to play anymore. He would be waiting for their news, and they mustn't keep him waiting. The blonde stepped forward and slashed a small dagger across the man’s throat.

His eyes widened for a moment in shock; a pained gurgle escaped his throat as what was left of his life’s blood poured from the wound onto the filthy ground. In moments, he was gone; a once powerful sorcerer reduced to nothing but an emaciated creature hanging from shackles in a dank cellar. In life, he’d have been ashamed of himself. In death, he praised whoever might be listening for finally answering his prayers. Gods have mercy on his soul.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Spike had vague memories of an old tomcat they’d allowed to roam around their stable when he’d been a boy. The scruffy thing was a decent enough mouser and earned his keep, but he had had no patience for Little William’s desire to toddle up and stroke his fur. The one time he’d attempted it, the old tom had crouched and hissed; then it had raised a paw and scratched William’s arm. In self-righteous anger, William had picked up a rock and thrown it at the cat. From then on, every time William entered the barn, the old tom would run to hide under a pile of hay and growl, flicking his tail and casting baleful, untrusting eyes on the boy until he left. 

Spike felt a bit like that cat. It had been embarrassing to have Wesley and Buffy “catch” him in such an unguarded moment with Dawn; his pride was wounded, and he felt an irresistible desire to reassert his place as the dominant evil in the house. After the initial welcomes had been given, Spike had retreated to his room under some pretense of wanting to rest before he went for a hunt. He’d tossed and turned in his bed for a grand total of ten minutes before growling in frustration and stomping back into the main room. The expressions the others gave him only served to frustrate him more. Dawn looked at him with adoration and a little bit of confusion, and Spike felt torn between saying something nasty to remind her that he wasn’t some tamed housecat and pulling her close and assuring her that he wasn’t angry at her. Even if he was, just a bit. It was her fault he’d been playing the damned game in the first place and acting completely undignified. 

The expression on the faces of the two adults about did him in. Wesley had a knowing smirk on his face that reminded Spike of the way his mother might have looked at him if she’d caught him doing something adorably mischievous such as coloring spots on his skin and believing himself a leopard. Spike had been caught doing something that no dignified vampire would do, and he stopped just short of tearing the Watcher’s mirthful eyes out of his head. Buffy, on the other hand, just looked...soft. Once she’d realized what they were doing, she’d gotten a sort of soft smile on her face and it had reappeared anytime she caught his gaze. 

Damn it all, she should be afraid. He’d nearly killed her, after all. She should be as distrustful as the Watcher had been; she should be questioning whether he was a moment away from ripping their collective spines out, the still present oath be damned. She had no right at all to look at him that way — as though he’d done something special; as though she trusted him implicitly. 

Spike couldn’t explain why he was suddenly so desperate to be separate from the warmth of the two girls. He’d accepted his demon’s claim on them as his...well, his. That did **not** mean, however, that he’d be turning into some sort of weak, soft-hearted cream-puff. He was still the Big Bad, and it was downright rude of them to act as though he was anything else. 

His skin began to crawl again. He hadn’t felt uncomfortable this way in the past few days with Dawn. His demon had accepted his care of the little girl as a sort of necessity. With Buffy gone, he had become Dawn’s guardian of sorts, and he had processed doing things he might not ordinarily do in the care of her as though she were family; part of his nest, as it were. He’d never sired anyone, but he’d seen it done - well and poorly - and some of it seemed instinctive. You watched the fledge, fed them, and showed them how to survive. Children weren’t so different. Really, the only differences had been in function. Instead of teaching her to feed from a human, he’d taught her the “proper” way to hold her utensils at dinner. Instead of teaching her to hunt, he’d taught her how to hide and evade a predator; still a work in progress, that one. 

Having Wesley around hadn’t really affected any of that; so long as he didn’t threaten to take Dawn away, man and demon worked together relatively peacefully. Spike even thought that the other Brit was coming around to his side of things. He hadn’t been nearly as grumpy the past day or two when he came around to check on them or bring something for Dawn. They’d even managed a few conversations that didn’t result in growls or threats; as far as Spike was concerned, that practically made them bosom companions. 

Having Buffy home seemed to change everything, though. As Spike watched Buffy and Dawn reunite, he was suddenly reminded of all the ways he was not truly an appropriate guardian for the little girl. Buffy didn’t hesitate to wrap Dawn in her arms the moment the two connected. She touched the girl’s face, arms, shoulders, ears; apparently, there were some concerns about Dawn still having all her pieces after a few days with him. 

He listened to Dawn describe their different “adventures” over the past few days and fought the urge to wince. It occurred to him that a purely human guardian probably wouldn’t have told the little girl stories about past hunts and exploits as bedtime stories. They probably wouldn’t have left finger marks while playing a simple game of hide and seek. They definitely wouldn’t have needed to be reminded that humans tended to eat more than once a day and that an apple didn’t count as adequate sustenance. 

Spike watched Buffy’s eyebrows furrow as Dawn relayed their exploits. Half of him wanted to sink into the chair so that they’d ignore his apparent failures in the absence of anyone more responsible; the other half of him wanted to rage at the judgment he was sure to face from the two adults. He’d done the best he could, hadn’t he? Not his fault he didn’t remember much about being a human. Not his fault humans were damned fragile and such picky eaters. He allowed himself to wallow in his own embarrassment for a time, his mood growing blacker every second. He needed to get out — now. 

Buffy watched Spike closely from her place on the floor with Dawn. With only one other seating option available after the attack, and that option currently taken up by a sulky vampire, Buffy had found a space on a rug and sunk down to the floor to talk with Dawn. Buffy couldn’t understand why Spike’s demeanor had changed so drastically. He’d appeared to be having a lot of fun with Dawn when she and Wes had walked in. The sight of the ‘dangerous predator’ bent over and peeking under chairs while Dawn obviously hid across the room had been precious; but when he’d noticed them come in, he’d looked very much like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Once the surprise had faded, he’d become sullen and reserved; she wished she understood why. 

She’d had a lot of time to think during her last day at the clinic. She’d split her time between snuggling Baby Hope and thinking about her two housemates. She worried that all of the trauma and danger that Dawn had experienced since they’d met would eventually get the better of the little girl. So far she’d seemed to cope well — almost too well, really. Buffy wondered what would happen when Dawn couldn’t cope anymore. 

When Buffy wasn’t thinking about Dawn, she thought about Spike. She was still confused as to why he’d visited her so much in the clinic. Everything he did seemed so contrary to what she thought she knew about his kind; and he did it all as though it were the most natural thing in the world. A vampire that lied, terrorized, and killed — she could handle that. A vampire that kissed wrists, brought beautiful flowers to unconscious patients, and allowed himself to be hurt protecting a little girl — that was enough to boggle her brains. 

What would happen when she went back? Would they talk about what she’d done to save him? Would they talk about what he’d done? She tried to picture the conversation but kept getting stuck on how to begin. 

“Hey Spike, thanks for not completely draining me dry!” No; that was a definite no. 

“So Spike, about that whole blood deal we have. Does it still count if I almost died last time?” Oh yeah, that’d go over well. 

“Hey Spike, why did you kiss me? Would you do it again?” What the — no! Nononononono!

There would be no encouragement of vampire kissing! Forget the fact that she was already pretty much spitting on all her training by even agreeing to their arrangement in the first place. The idea of allowing a cold-blooded killer demon to — if she didn’t have Giles’s glasses tucked into her backpack still, she’d swear she could hear him cleaning them from his grave. 

It was just a normal reaction to touch; that was all. Buffy rationalized that it had been a long time since anyone had kissed her or touched her gently. Her body must just miss it. It could have been anyone, really. Sure, it helped when anyone had curls in his hair and really, **really** blue eyes that looked like tide pools off the coast of somewhere exotic like Greece, and — nope, still not thinking about that. The glasses were getting cleaned even more loudly, she was sure. 

She’d put those thoughts firmly out of her head and focused on Dawn again. She hoped that the little girl had managed to keep her head down and out of the way in the past few days. She hoped that Dawn hadn’t been hurt again; no one had said anything to her, but that didn’t really mean anything. She wondered if Dawn had been able to sleep alone. Since the first night together, they had slept next to each other. Buffy protected Dawn from the monsters in the night, and Dawn’s snores gave Buffy’s dreams a soundtrack besides screams. 

Buffy also wondered what had happened to the camp in the few days she’d been out. No one had been especially kind to her from the beginning, but as she and Wes had walked out of camp and towards Spike’s cabin, Buffy had noticed that everyone seemed to be pretending that the people around them didn’t exist. People wouldn’t look at others passing by, and humans and demons seemed to be going out of their way to avoid each other. 

When she’d asked Wes, he’d frowned and explained what had happened with Willow. Buffy’s eyes had grown large in shock as she’d listened; anger had bloomed in her chest until she’d actually turned around to march straight back into camp to confront Willow herself. Wes had held her back and urged her to let it be. It had been handled, he said, and her interfering or attacking Willow would only bring Dawn more trouble if something were to happen to Buffy. 

Buffy had shaken him off roughly; she’d thought this place was supposed to be different. People here were supposed to be different. A picture of Spike disintegrating into dust and floating away as she tried to save him flashed into her mind and caused a stab of panic to dig into her chest. That could have happened thanks to Willow; with Spike gone, where would she and Dawn have gone? 

The walk back had been quiet after that. Wes seemed tired— well, more tired than he had been the last time they’d spoken. The sun behind them was slowly slinking behind the trees as they approached the cabin. Buffy noticed that the shattered window was all but repaired; in place of the curtains, wooden shutters had been added to the outside to keep the sunlight out. Buffy could make out the sounds of voices inside, but until she’d walked into the room, she hadn’t realized what she was hearing. To say she’d been surprised to find Spike and Dawn playing “Hide and Seek” would be an understatement of gigantic proportions. 

Buffy glanced tentatively at Spike; he looked even more uncomfortable than he had when he sat down. One of his feet bounced against the floor and the fingers of one hand tapped impatiently against the arm of the chair. He seemed to be deep in thought about something. A pit formed somewhere in her stomach when Buffy considered that she might be the reason for his sudden change in attitude. He’d seemed perfectly happy playing with Dawn, but as soon as Buffy had shown up, it was like he’d completely shut down. She wondered if he blamed her for his getting hurt. After all, if she’d never brought Dawn to the camp, he’d have never been hurt. 

Dawn either didn’t notice his demeanor or actively chose to ignore it. After she’d told Buffy every single thing she’d done in the past four days, she turned to her ‘playmate’ and cheerfully asked if he would play a game of Go Fish with her. Wes raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Buffy smiled sweetly again as she looked at Spike, hoping that maybe Dawn would be able to snap him out of whatever cloud of gloom he was stuck in. 

To Buffy’s surprise, Spike actually growled at the little girl. For a moment, he seemed as shocked by the action as Dawn was; but his wide eyes quickly narrowed and he frowned. “Not a soddin’ nursemaid, girl. Find someone else to bother!”

He stood up quickly and grabbed his duster from where it lay on the back of the chair. Shrugging it on, he muttered something about “barmy chits” and “stupid bloody games”; the rest of the room’s occupants looked on slack-jawed as he shoved his arms into the coat and stomped towards the door. Dawn sniffled a bit; and he looked over, but shook his head and kept going. 

He called out over his shoulder, “Goin’ out for a hunt. Try not to destroy my house.” 

As he slammed the door behind him, Buffy couldn’t help but wonder what she’d missed. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Tara had had a funny feeling most of the morning. She hadn’t been able to pin it down to any one thing or cause; there had just been a sinking feeling in her stomach since she left Willow sleeping in their bed that morning. Tara kept meaning to go back upstairs to check on her, but people’s needs had been nonstop all morning! 

Now it was closer to lunchtime; and Tara felt confident that the clinic wouldn’t burn down if she walked away for fifteen minutes to see how Willow was doing. To try to ease the uncomfortable feeling, Tara hummed a cheery song she remembered had been popular on the radio before everything collapsed. On her way towards the stairs, she picked up the handful of flower blooms that she’d taken from their garden earlier that morning. Willow loved flowers, so Tara hoped that maybe something beautiful would finally help to snap her out from under the dark cloud she’d been caught in since the day at Spike’s cabin. 

Tara stopped halfway up the stairs when she heard a strange sound from upstairs in the loft. It worried her for a moment before she realized that it had to be Willow. Tara was relieved that Willow was finally getting out of bed; and a smile spread on her face as she continued up the stairs. When she reached the top, she grinned at the sight of Willow picking up various articles of clothing off the floor. Tara felt a slight stab of guilt at automatically assuming the worst of her lover; obviously, she’d just been cleaning.

Willow looked up at the sound of Tara’s feet on the stairs and smiled warmly. Tara felt a flutter of hope in her chest; after days of Willow being stuck in a cloud of depression so thick that she wouldn’t even get out of bed, she was up, dressed, moving, and even cleaning! Tara wasn’t sure what had caused the sudden change, but she was thankful. 

After they had left the meeting that night, Willow had all but shut down. She’d walked quietly with Tara back to their loft, crawled under the covers, and gone straight to sleep. The next few days had been hard; Willow had spent the majority of the time in bed. Some of the time she slept, but mostly she stared into space. Tara had been worried that the shock of what the people at the meeting had said, coupled with the vampire’s threat and the restriction of Willow’s magic, had broken the other witch. 

To see her now, though, you’d never guess anything had been wrong. Willow looked calm...and happy. Tara didn’t want to suspect her lover of anything, but Willow seemed to have changed almost overnight. 

“Hi, baby! I was wondering when you’d be up here again! Everything going all right at the clinic?” Willow’s tone was light and cheerful, but something in her expression was...strange to Tara. 

“S-sure. It’s been busy, I guess. Sorry I couldn’t get b-back up here before now.” It had been an age since Tara had stuttered in front of Willow; it was embarrassing that it was happening now. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it! I’ve just been picking up a bit. Can’t be too clean, you know?” 

There were benefits to having been with a person for as long as Tara had been with Willow. For example, Tara knew the exact way that Willow’s nose wrinkled when she was working on solving a problem. She knew the particular sigh that Willow made when she was content to be snuggling in bed. She also knew the specific, twitchy smile that Willow would make when she was hiding something. The last time Tara had seen it, Willow had been planning a birthday surprise for her. This time...Tara wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

“Oh, w-well you didn’t have to do that. I would have helped. I don’t want you to try too much t-too fast.” Tara hoped that she was convincing; she leaned forward and kissed Willow softly on the lips. “I’m worried about you, Will.” 

Willow laughed a little too brightly. “Me? I’m fine! Woke up feeling like a whole new me this morning! I just, you know, needed time to think about everything; and I did. And I’m great now.” She paused to stroke a hand down Tara’s cheek. “Really, baby, I’m fine. I’m sorry if I scared you, but I’m okay.” 

“O-okay. I’m glad you’re feeling better then. Are you hungry?” 

Willow’s smile turned seductive, and she leaned in to nibble at Tara’s neck before answering. “You bet I am! But first, I should probably take care of the tummy hungries, right? So how about I go grab something to eat, you go make sure everyone in the clinic is all hunky-dory, and we’ll meet up back here in 30 minutes for, y’know, dessert?” 

Tara smiled and tried to push her worries away. “Sounds good. I’ll see you in a little bit, I guess?”

Willow nodded, stepped away, and turned to walk towards the stairs. Almost as an afterthought, she called back, “Oh, I almost forgot. I noticed we’re running low on some of the Old Man’s Beard lichen; and cold and flu season is coming soon. I was going to take a quick trip into the woods after I ate to see if I could find some; so it might be a bit longer than 30 minutes, but I’ll be quick. Okay? See you later, babe!”

Tara gave a small wave and listened to Willow walk down the stairs. The moment that she heard the door at the bottom of the stairs close, Tara turned to look around the room. Something was wrong; she was sure of it. She hated being suspicious of Willow, but to ignore the obvious signs in front of her would be naive. People often underestimated Tara because of her stutter and her general quiet demeanor, but she wasn’t stupid.

She loved Willow with all of her heart, but right at that moment, she was just as afraid of Willow as she was afraid for her. She didn’t believe for one moment that Willow was really doing as well as she wanted Tara to believe. There was something about Willow that still seemed...desperate, and it scared Tara. Willow had more power than most people understood. Tara knew, though. She’d seen what happened last time Willow had let loose her magic; the devastation had been terrible. And it had all been for her. It had been to save Tara from a fate worse than death with a family who would have killed her soul before her body. 

Tara shook her thoughts clear and continued to look. There had to be something. Willow hadn’t been anywhere else in the past few days, so she must have left something. Tara wandered the room for a few minutes checking under pillows and books for any clue as to what might be going on in her lover’s head. She’d just about given up and convinced herself that she was looking too deeply when it hit her. When she walked past the bookshelf that held Willow’s keepsake box, the scent drifted faintly into her nose. The awful feeling in her stomach returned and spread throughout her body as she opened the box with shaky hands. 

_Oh no...Oh gods, Willow, what have you done?_

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Spike! Spike, wait!” 

Spike refused to stop or even turn around. He figured she must have come to swat his nose like an errant puppy for what he’d said to Dawn, but he had no desire to hear it. Didn’t need to hear from her how he’d bollixed things up; knew that well enough all on his own, didn’t he? So he kept going. 

It was a fine plan until she caught up with him; of all the things he expected, her jumping in front of him and crossing her arms in defiance was not among them. He was determined, however, and simply walked around her. She put herself in his path again and put a hand in the middle of his chest; really, she was asking for it. 

He stepped closer, putting them almost nose to nose; his voice was low and threatening. “Best get out of the way, pet. Wouldn’t want to tempt a hungry demon, would you?” 

Buffy wrinkled her nose and took a step back, but kept her hand solid on his chest. “Really? ‘Tempt a hungry demon’? What are you, a cheesy horror flick?” 

Spike hated the way she refused to be cowed. He’d been rude, he’d hurt her even during a ‘gentle’ bite — he’d nearly killed her, for fuck’s sake; still, she wasn’t afraid of him. He tried to ignore that her hand on him was as hot as Dawn’s had been. He noticed that it was having a very different effect, however. Dawn’s warmth had inspired a desire to protect and soothe. Buffy’s heat inspired something else altogether. The sight of her, brassed off and pink-cheeked from running after him, sent a hot bolt of desire straight down to his cock. 

Before he could consider exactly what **that** meant, Buffy had already started talking again. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but something is. Dawn’s really upset and confused; she thinks she did something wrong! But you’ve been acting weird since the minute I got back, so I’m thinking it’s something to do with me!” 

She looked at him expectantly. Spike didn’t want to admit what had caused his “temper tantrum”, so he settled for sneering disdainfully. “Think quite a lot of yourself, don’t you? Couldn’t just be that I’m tired of bein’ surrounded by you humans and your heartbeats and your bloody feelings all day! No, has to be all about you, doesn’t it, Highness?” 

A look of hurt passed over Buffy’s face for a moment, but she quickly shifted back to the stubbornly determined expression she’d had before. “No, it doesn’t. But you were fine until Wes and I came in. Dawn was thrilled to bits about whatever you’ve been doing the past few days, so you haven’t been acting like this with her. So what did I do, Spike? How did I manage to piss you off by walking in the door?” 

Buffy was losing patience fast. It was bad enough that she lived with one child; she didn’t need another. Spike continued to glare at her sullenly, his mouth in a firm line. Buffy wracked her brain for something she could say to get him to talk to her. 

She wasn’t even really sure why she had followed him out into the woods. Dawn had been in tears at the idea that Spike was upset with her, and Buffy told herself that she was here to get him to apologize. The truth was, though, that she **had** noticed that his attitude changed when she arrived...and it bothered her. Nearly dying aside, she’d thought they’d been managing...reasonably well. As well as could be expected in their situation, really. He hadn’t acted like this before; so why start now? 

Buffy suddenly remembered what Willow had said when they’d first moved in with Spike; something about not expecting demons to react like humans. Spike...Spike wasn’t human, and he wasn’t going to respond to her confrontation like a human would respond. So what did a vampire respond to? _Blood, obviously. Other vampires. Hunting. Fighting...oh, that could work._

Without taking the time to think out the potential consequences for what she was about to do, Buffy dropped into a defensive crouch and balled her hands into fists. She felt adrenaline begin to flood her system as she watched Spike’s expression shift from anger to confusion. 

“What the bloody hell are you doin’?” 

She shrugged carelessly. “You didn’t want to talk. I thought we could try something else.” 

Spike quirked an eyebrow and slowly allowed a small smile to spread. “That’s adorable, kitten. You know I could break you in half, right?” 

Buffy grinned and began to circle him. “Well, so you might need to hold back a little; but you’d better be careful. I’m quicker than your average Valley Girl!”

Spike seemed to consider a moment before throwing a punch towards her face without warning. Buffy ducked; then threw her own punch at his chin. He evaded her easily and moved to her left. Buffy followed him with her eyes, trying to remember all of Giles’s training. 

_They’ll be faster, Buffy, and very likely stronger than you. Vampires are fast, brutal, and cunning. If you give them an opening, they’ll take it._

Buffy pulled her arms closer to her chest, tightening her fists and readying herself for the next blow. If he connected, she’d be in some serious pain; so, she just needed to keep him from connecting. 

Easier said than done. Spike’s next swing almost caught her off guard as he feinted left, then swung harder with his right. She barely blocked in time, and even the glancing blow was jarring. 

_Use the terrain, Buffy. Vampires will always go for the kill, so you must use every advantage available to you._

Buffy dodged another swing and rolled to the ground, flinging a handful of loose dirt towards Spike’s eyes. 

Spike growled angrily; then shook his head and swiped his hands across his eyes roughly. “Dirty pool, luv! Can’t beat me fair and square, eh?” 

Buffy laughed as she moved behind him. “Probably not! But winning’s winning, isn’t it?” 

Spike rubbed the last of the dust out of his eyes and gave her a feral grin. “Well, that’s true, but victory’s all the more satisfying when I take you down without having to cheat!” 

Buffy jumped out of his way when he threw another punch, and they were off. Punches and kicks were thrown back and forth so fast that Buffy didn’t have time to do anything but react instinctively. She knew Spike was holding back, but it was still...fun. Her heart hammered in her chest as she met each blow as best she could, and returned his attacks savagely. She looked for any way to gain the upper hand, and a few times she even landed a hit. 

After a while, Buffy could feel herself start to slow. She knew she’d have to get him soon or risk being unable to keep up with him. She kept moving, weaving from side to side before aiming a kick to his middle. Spike surprised her by catching her foot and twisting it to throw her off balance. She landed hard on the ground and winced at the feel of what would likely be a spectacular bruise in the morning. 

Buffy rolled over and began to push herself up when Spike was suddenly on top of her; he straddled her hips and grabbed her hands to pin her back down. She squirmed frantically for a moment, hoping to dislodge him, but found it to be a wasted effort. Buffy felt her heart pound heavily as Spike grinned down at her and let his demon face forward. 

“You’re makin’ this too easy, pet! All that fuss and I don’t even have a scratch to show for it! How’ve you stayed alive this long?” 

He leaned down slowly towards her neck; and for one terrifying moment, Buffy thought that he meant to hurt her. Giles’s instructions flashed in her mind. 

_When you’re in a pinch, you use whatever you can. Bite, kick, scratch, poke — fight dirty! Find something sensitive and hurt it!_

Just as Spike’s fangs neared her skin, Buffy zoned in on her target and struck. Spike’s surprised, pained roar when her teeth crunched down on his ear was satisfying. He reared back, and Buffy was able to use his loss of balance and the momentum to roll him beneath her. 

Buffy sat above him for a moment, her hands holding his wrists against his chest; it only took a few seconds to notice how firm Spike felt beneath her. It took a few more seconds to understand exactly where she was seated. Buffy felt her face begin to flush when she realized that Spike was...reacting to their situation. Without thinking, she squirmed against him; she turned even redder when he let out a soft growl at her shifting her hips over his erection.

“You keep that up, pet, and this’ll be a whole different kind of sparrin’!”

His voice was rough and gravelly, and it made her skin feel too warm. He broke his hands out of her grip - she hadn’t realized that she’d softened her hold - and reached out to place his hands on her hips. The gesture pushed her down against him again, and the flash of pleasure she felt deep in her belly made her want him to do it again.

It occurred to Buffy that she should probably say something, but the hungry look in Spike’s eyes had her scrambling for any kind of coherent thought. She stammered, “I — Uh, that is — Um, I win?” 

Spike leered up at her. “Sort of feel like I’m winnin’ at the moment, kitten. Care to try for double or nothing?” 

Buffy laughed, glad the tension was broken. Suddenly she was very aware of her body and his. As good as it felt, being in this position with Spike was confusing. The blatant hardness she felt between her legs was distracting and wonderful and made her feel a bit tingly, and this was **so** not the direction she’d planned for their conversation to go!

It took more effort than Buffy would admit to push herself off of Spike. She stood up; then extended a hand out to him with a nervous smile. “How about we call it a draw this time?” 

Spike’s eyes were intense and heated when he reached up to accept her hand. Buffy’s skin felt like it sparked where he touched her, and another wave of heat traveled through her body to settle between her legs. His skin was cool against hers, and Buffy wondered how something so cool could make her body feel so hot. 

If Spike noticed her discomfort, he didn’t say anything. Come to think of it, he still hadn’t said what had been his issue in the first place. 

“You gonna tell me what your problem was?” Buffy asked as she helped haul him to his feet. 

Spike seemed to think for a moment; then shook his head. “Doesn’ matter now. Was just bein’ daft, I expect.” 

Buffy nodded as though she understood. If it was important, he’d tell her eventually. For right now, at least the tension was gone...well, at least **that** tension. Buffy wasn’t sure she was ready to think about the other kind of tension that had surfaced tonight. Not yet, at least. 

Spike shifted uncomfortably and said, “Look, I still need to hunt. S’ been a few nights since I had a decent meal, what with watchin’ the Bit and all.”

Buffy frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t...I didn’t know you hadn’t been able to go out. Do you...do you need any help?”

Spike smiled and shook his head. “Nah. Wouldn’t want you to scare everything in a three mile radius off with all the noise you make, would I? I’d never get fed. You head back and I’ll be back soon enough. Tell Niblet…” He paused, unsure of what to say. 

Buffy understood. “I’ll let her know it was a momentary loss of sanity. See you at the house, Spike.” 

Spike watched her walk aways off before he finally answered quietly. “Yeah. See you, Buffy.”


	16. Rhododendron macrophyllum (Pacific Rhododendron)

**_Rhododendron macrophyllum_ ** **(Pacific Rhododendron)**

Tara forced herself to breathe and walk normally through the camp. Out for a walk, Willow had said. She might have been lying about going to find lichen for their stores, but Tara wasn’t sure where else to begin to look. The sun was high in the sky, and Tara had to squint a little in the bright midday light. Her pounding heart betrayed her fear, if only to herself, as she walked; her eyes flashed back and forth looking for any sign of Willow’s red hair. 

_Come on, Willow — Where are you? I’ve got to find you!_

What she’d seen in their room kept flashing into her mind. One of the benefits of being a witch who also ‘practiced’ medicine was the overlapping knowledge of the uses of different medicinal herbs and plants. Many plants that could be used for healing had the potential for darker uses as well. The freshly crushed rhododendron petals in Willow’s box terrified Tara. Sometimes used for relief from headaches and other pain, rhododendrons had not been used to represent danger and warning by those in the Victorian era for nothing. Their petals could be used to form the base of powerful spells, many of which involved suggestion or mind manipulation. 

Tara smiled thinly at the few people who called out to her while she walked, but refused to stop. Once she was out of the main encampment, Tara hiked up her skirts and began to run; she reached out with her own magic to try to find Willow’s unique magical aura. 

While not as adept at the louder, brighter, often more destructive parts of magic as Willow, Tara’s own power was not insignificant. She had always felt keenly aware of the earth around her and the connections between things. Those connections made her sensitive to people’s auras - the unique signature that each person had that exposed their truest selves. Like the roots beneath trees, people’s auras connected them to others; and if pressed, Tara could use those connections to seek someone out. Tara was very pressed. 

She stopped every few hundred yards to concentrate, stretching her awareness to feel for Willow. Finally, almost a full mile away from camp, Tara sensed her lover. She tore through the brush as best she could while hindered by long skirts. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, urging her to move faster. The closer she got to Willow, the harder it felt to breathe. What would she do if...no, Willow **wouldn’t**!

Finally, Tara made it to the top of a hill and saw Willow’s distinctive hair in the valley below; she was crouched over something on the ground and didn’t hear Tara coming up behind her. Tara walked slowly, careful not to trip or disturb any rocks or sticks. Her heart hammered in her chest as she approached, and she prayed that Willow couldn’t hear it. She didn’t notice the way Willow stiffened as she moved closer. 

Tara was only about ten yards away when the other witch stood quickly and turned; in the time it took for Willow to speak a few words and stretch out her hand, Tara was already frozen in place. 

“Willow, stop!” Tara’s voice was choked, the spell restraining every part of her body down to her heart and lungs. She’d never known Willow to use this spell — was the pain intentional?

Willow’s face was determined and hard even as tears streamed down her face. “I’m sorry, baby! I’m sorry that you followed me! You were supposed to wait — if you’d just waited.”

Tara struggled frantically; or she tried, at least. The spell held her fast, and the tightening sensation grew sharper every second. It was getting hard to take in a breath. “Willow, whatever you’re thinking, you know it won’t make things better. You know that it won’t fix things.”

Willow laughed bitterly. “Of course it will! Don’t you get it? I can fix it! I know how — it took me a while to figure it out, but I get it now! I messed up, Tara, but I can make it all better!” 

Tara tried to shake her head and felt tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “What are you going to do, Willow? What could be worth this? What could be worth hurting me?”

Willow’s eyes widened, and she faltered. She waved her hand again, and Tara felt the pressure on her heart and lungs recede. She took a deep breath and tried to move, but found that her feet were still stuck in place. 

“I’m not trying to hurt you, baby! I’m going to fix it. Look, I know that I should have handled the vampire thing differently, but people aren’t going to let it go. It was a mistake, but nobody will give me the chance to fix it! They’re all afraid because of what Angel and the others said even if they shouldn’t be! You know me; I wouldn’t hurt anybody!”

“Willow...What are you doing?” Tara’s voice sounded much more firm than she felt. What she was mostly was afraid. What had Willow been doing out here?”

“I’m just going to make everyone forget about it! No one will get hurt, I swear! They’re just going to forget about the misunderstanding with the oath; and then you and I can go to Angel like we did before to suggest a new one. But this time we’ll do it right and we’ll make sure everyone knows what they’re getting into! And people will trust me again, and no one needs to get hurt!” 

Willow had a desperate smile on her face as the tears coursed down her face, and the sight frightened Tara even more. She’d known Willow didn’t handle rebuke well, but she’d had no idea that it had gone this far. Part of her wanted to wrap her lover in her arms and rock her until the world made sense again; the rest of her just wanted Willow to stop. Tara flexed her fingers and realized that she was able to move her hands. She began to pull the needed words to the forefront of her mind. 

Willow walked towards Tara, reaching a hand out towards Tara’s face. “You’ll see, baby. This is the best way. It’s all going to be okay. Just one little spell and everything is like it should be again. I know it’s hard for people to see past their fear, so I’m just going to make sure they don’t have to. Everyone will be happier this way!”

One more time — Tara had to try one more time to reach her. “Willow, this is **wrong**! You know that it is. That’s why you’re out here hiding; can’t you see? You know this isn’t what magic is for! We’re not God, Willow! We don’t get to snap our fingers and fix everything!”

“Sure, we do! Why have magic if I can’t make my - our lives better? Tara I’m not hurting —”

“Willow, you’re raping their minds! You’re raping **my** mind if you do this!”

Willow stopped short, eyes wide. “R-rape? Why would you say that? I’m not — how can you call it that? I’m not r-raping anyone!”

Tara held Willow’s gaze and continued coldly. “Yes, you are. You’re taking control of their body, their mind, without their consent.” Tara took a deep breath and gave her ultimatum. “Willow...if you do this...if you’re willing to do that to me to hide a mistake...We won’t last, Willow. Is that worth it to you?”

Willow’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You...you’d leave me? After everything? After I...Tara, I’m doing this for us! So we don’t have to leave our home!” 

Tara shook her head sadly. “No, baby. This isn’t for us. I don’t want this, so it can’t be for us. This is for you. This is because you don’t want to face the fact that what you did was wrong.”

Willow’s face hardened; her green eyes grew cold, and she clenched her fists at her sides. “I wasn’t wrong! I was keeping people safe! And I still am! They need me here, but they won’t let me do my job now because of what happened! People will get hurt if I don’t do this! You might get hurt! You heard that vampire too —what if after the oath is gone, they come after you to get back at me? Is that what you want?”

Tara flexed her hands again; almost there, just a little bit more movement and she’d be able to stop this. 

“Of course, not Willow! But I also know what will happen if you go through with this. I will know. Something inside me will know when I look at you. We will never be the same if you choose to take my will away from me. You’ll be no better than my family.”

Willow looked like she’d been slapped. A moment after the shock faded, fiery anger seemed to take its place. “You just don’t understand!” She shouted. “You don’t understand how dangerous it could be for you if I do nothing! I have to do something, Tara! I can’t just sit at home while people get hurt because they worry I might do something to them; all I did was make sure no one could get hurt!”

“But Willow...people did get hurt. Spike got hurt. Buffy got hurt. Even Dawn could have been killed if Spike hadn’t been able to fight off that man. People **did** get hurt.”

Willow shook her head frantically and turned away for a moment. “No, no you’ll see. You’ll see, it’s much better this way. I just have to—”

This was it. This was Tara’s chance. Maybe her only chance to stop Willow and free herself. But just as she opened her mouth to release the words, a rock went flying past her head and connected with the back of Willow’s skull with a sickening crack. The redhead crumpled to the ground immediately, and the spell surrounding Tara dissolved just as quickly. She regained her footing quickly, and spun around to see where the rock had come from. 

Two women came limping out from the tree line at the top of the hill. Both about the same height, one had dark brown hair and the other was blonde. The brunette seemed to be in worse shape; her body was covered in deep scratches and bruises. The blonde wasn’t nearly as damaged on the outside, but her limp was more pronounced. 

The blonde spoke first, one arm wrapped around her ribs as she walked. “Are you a ‘good guy’? I told her you must be since the one holding you hostage was angry and seemed to be doing dark magic.”

Before Tara could process the question and answer, the brunette shook her head and huffed angrily. “Dammit, Anya! You can’t just ask people if they’re the good guys!”

The blonde, Anya, frowned. “Why not? Wouldn’t it be better to know before we go any further?” 

“Because people fucking lie, that’s why!” The brunette winced after her outburst; the movement apparently causing more pain. 

Tara eyed the two women warily and stuttered, “Y-yes, I’m a...good guy. Who are you?”

The brunette said nothing at first; Anya looked at her companion, shook her head, and stuck her hand out towards Tara. “I’m Anya, and this is Faith. We are in need of shelter and medical help. Can you provide that?” 

Tara’s mind whirled, still trying to catch up with the events of the last few minutes. She reached out a shaky hand and shook Anya’s. “Yes, I c-can take you to our camp. But...Willow—” Tara jerked around and rushed towards Willow’s still unconscious form. 

Tara knelt next to Willow and gently examined the raised lump on the back of her head. It was red and angry, but nothing felt broken when she gently touched it. Tara could hear the other women coming up behind her, but didn’t turn to face them. She carefully stroked Willow’s hair, her heart breaking anew when she thought of what Willow had been about to do. 

Faith spoke up from behind her. “Look, I don’t know what was going on with Red here, but we need to get out of the open. There might be — look, we just got away from some wicked scary people, and I don’t know if they’re coming after us. We need to get somewhere safe in case they are, though. Okay?”

Tara looked up and nodded. “I can’t...I can’t leave her here. We have to get her back to camp.”

Faith groaned and rolled her eyes up. “Of course you can’t. Because that’s just what we need - dead weight that plays with bad mojo! Look, I don’t know what she was doing, but it looked bad; and you didn’t look to be having a great time either! But fine, we’ll waste time and muscle and take her. She comes to, though, and I’m not responsible for what I hit to take her back out!”

Tara nodded mutely; her eyes widened when Faith let out another sigh and stooped to haul Willow up over her shoulder. She winced again, but straightened and started to walk back up the hill, Anya close behind her. When Tara hesitated, Faith called over her shoulder, “Up here, Blondie! I don’t know where the hell we’re going!”

Tara hurried and caught up with them. She stared at Faith in shock, wondering how the woman could possibly carry that much dead weight while already injured. She looked to Anya and asked, “How — how can she…?”

Anya looked confused for a moment but smiled brightly when she understood the question. “Oh, the super strong thing? She’s the Slayer. Ever heard of them? One girl in all the world to fight the demons and all that?”

“Fuckin’ hell, Anya! We talked about you blabbing that to the world!” 

<><><><><><><><><>

Once again, Buffy found herself alone on the trail leading back to the main camp. It had been hard to leave the cabin; hard to leave Dawn and not feel as though something bad would happen if she left again. In her mind, Buffy pictured another angry man - or woman- breaking in and trying to hurt Dawn when she wasn’t there to help. Spike must have seen the evidence of her anxiety on her face; after one of Angel’s little messenger boys had come by the cabin first thing in the morning to let her know that Wes needed to speak with her, Spike had gruffly offered to stay awake to keep watch over Dawn until Buffy came back. 

He was trying. Dawn had already been asleep by the time Spike had returned from his hunt the night before, but he’d stayed awake in the morning until she’d woken up. Dawn had been reserved with him, sticking close to Buffy until he’d finally muttered an apology to her. She’d looked down her nose at him as much as was possible for a seven year old, nodded her head once, and said he was forgiven. Then she’d asked if he’d play cards with her, and the look on her face had made it clear that saying no was not an option. Buffy had almost been unable to hold back a laugh at the longsuffering expression on the vampire’s face. 

Buffy had her suspicions about what had actually caused Spike’s foul mood the night before, so in an attempt to prove to both herself and him that she trusted him with Dawn, she’d agreed to go to the camp by herself. As she walked along the wooded path, it occurred to her that half of their quarantine time was done. They’d been living with Spike for a week already - more or less with her being in the clinic for four of the days - and there was just one week left until the community would come together again to decide their fate. Buffy tried to be optimistic, but she had seen how much could happen in the span of just a few days. 

She wondered what would happen at the end of the next seven days. Where would they go? Dawn was already used to living with Spike, and Buffy wondered if having to leave would be one more stone stacked in the pile of things that had traumatized the child. That was, of course, to say nothing of how Buffy herself would feel about it. Since their sparring the evening before, Buffy hadn’t been able to put the feel of Spike’s firm body beneath hers out of her head. It’d been especially embarrassing when he’d come back from his hunt, and she hadn’t been able to stop the flush spreading on her cheeks. He’d raised an eyebrow and smirked at her, but hadn’t said anything. 

Buffy was still struggling with accepting the idea of being attracted to anyone, let alone a vampire. Moral gray areas aside, it had been a long time since she’d noticed anyone that way, even in passing. Who had time for warm fuzzies when the world was ending? She knew that some people had coped with the awful reality they found themselves in by...connecting with someone else, but having never experienced that particular style of connecting herself, Buffy hadn’t felt the need to pursue it just for the sake of experience. 

Now though...was that heat that she’d felt something she could afford? Who knew where they’d be a week from now. She had Dawn to think about. Could she really justify even entertaining the idea of...more when there was so much uncertainty?

Buffy shook herself out of her thoughts when she approached the two-story building where Wes was staying with Xander and a few other single men. It was one of the larger buildings in the encampment, so she was surprised to find it empty when she entered. She walked through the large main room and called out for Wes.

“Up here, Buffy!” His voice carried from the upstairs level. 

Buffy cautiously made her way up the stairs, tensing at the sound of other voices. When she reached the top step and looked around, she found Wes and Xander standing together and whispering outside one of the bedrooms. Xander raised an eyebrow as she walked up. “Hey, Buffy. What are you doing here?”

“Wes sent for me. Is something wrong?”

Wes looked up at her, his eyebrows drawn together and mouth in a thin line. “Quite a lot. Most of it will take some time to explain, but the most important bit right now is that yesterday Tara came across some women outside of camp who needed help. One of them claims to be the Slayer.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “You’re — how do we know if she’s telling the truth?” 

“I’m sorry - I still don’t understand why Buffy’s here. Shouldn’t she be sticking kinda close to Dawn for now?” Xander’s question was a quick reminder that most of the camp had no idea of Buffy’s status as a potential; for now, that was a good thing. 

“I—a friend of mine from before...she was a potential. I got to know about Slayers from her. It was something Wes and I bonded over.”

“Oh...I guess you’d have some good questions for her too, then?”

Buffy swallowed nervously. “Yeah, I guess. Wes, do you think she’s for real?”

Wes nodded slowly. “I’ve spoken with her over the past few hours as her energy allowed. What she says adds up for now. She says she was called roughly a year and a half ago, which is in line with my last communications with the Council before everything went quiet.”

“How’d she end up here?” What were the chances that the Slayer and what could likely be the last potential Slayer end up in the same place in a tiny corner of Oregon at the end of the world?

“Apparently they were being held captive somewhere north of here, but managed to escape. She was rather vague and requested time to rest afterward. We were just about to go back and check on them again. Join us?” He turned to face the door and gestured for Buffy to walk ahead. 

Buffy nodded and walked to the door. She knocked lightly but didn’t wait for an answer before entering. The women inside didn’t seem particularly surprised by her abrupt entry. A thin brunette lay in one of the beds, and a blonde took up the other. They were both obviously recovering from injuries, but the brunette seemed to be in a lot better shape than her companion. 

Wes was quick to make introductions. “Buffy Summers, this is Faith Lehane, the...Slayer. Over here is Ms. Anya Jenkins.”

“What is this? You turnin’ us into a zoo now?” Faith gave Buffy a disdainful look. 

“Being in a zoo wouldn’t be so bad. At least as zoo attractions, they would have to feed us reasonably well and no torture could be done in areas visible to the public. Could be worse.” Anya’s remark was made with a thoughtful expression. 

“Uh — no. No zoo here. You’re in a human/demon co-op of sorts. We tend to not stick people on display here.” Xander looked mildly scandalized at Anya’s suggestion and rushed to defend his home. 

Buffy shook her head and added, “No one’s sticking you in any kind of zoo. Look, Wes thought you and I might...talk a bit. I’ve sort of had a bit of experience with Slayers.” 

Faith quirked an eyebrow and sneered. “Oh yeah? What, a Slayer save you from some vamp who had you convinced he was just a big, toothy teddy bear? You look the type.” 

Buffy stiffened but forced herself to stay calm. If she could ignore Spike’s snark on a daily basis, she could ignore this woman. “No, I had a friend who was a potential. Got to know her and her watcher really well before...well, before.” 

Faith wasn’t convinced. “So—o what? We’re supposed to bond because you maybe knew some chick who was the potential pinch hitter in case I kicked it? Oh boy, let’s cuddle up and sing kumbaya, by golly!”

Anya spoke up from beside Faith. “You know, cuddling wouldn’t be so bad. People tend to be kinder and more generous to those they cuddle with. I’m not into blonde girls, though; you can have her. I’ll cuddle him.” She pointed to Xander, whose face flushed immediately. 

“Goddammit, Anya, we’re not cuddling anyone! I told you this was a bad idea! We should have kept movin’! Now we’re stuck here with some kind of lumberjack pirate, an off-brand Hugh Grant ex-Watcher, and some chick named ‘Bunny’!”

“Hey—!” Buffy started to protest, but Wes cut her off. 

“Miss Lehane, if you’d just calm down, we could —”

Faith pushed herself out halfway out of bed before wincing and grabbing her ribs. “No, **fuck** calming down! We’ve been running for days and you guys are sittin’ here talking like you’re safe here! Like anyone is safe! I’m not gonna sit here and play nice with Bunny because you wanna waste time figurin’ out if I’m the real deal. You wanna find out? Go find me a demon and we’ll settle this real quick. Better yet, just let me hit you!”

“All right, that’s enough!” Buffy stepped between Wes and Faith and unconsciously tightened her body for a fight. 

Faith opened her mouth to argue, but Buffy cut her off. “Look, I get it that you don’t trust us. You have no reason to. You haven’t been able to trust anyone in a long time, I bet. And being the Slayer? You’ve got to be double, maybe triple paranoid. Always worried that someone’s gonna take what you are as a challenge or a threat. And we can’t just sit here and convince you - you’re going to have to let us try and prove it and help you. You’re hurt, your friend’s hurt, and even you aren’t invincible.” 

Faith glared through narrowed eyes, but said nothing for a moment. Anya spoke up from the other bed. “She’s right, you know. We’re hurt. They aren’t hurting us more. We should probably take as much advantage of that as we can.” 

The room was quiet for what felt like very long minutes before Wes moved out from behind Buffy and went to stand directly in front of Faith. He acted as though he wanted to reach a hand out to her for a moment, but dropped it back to his side after consideration. “Faith, you’re trying to stay alive. So are we. If you have any information about a danger we should be aware of, I would ask that you tell us. We cannot help - cannot prove ourselves — if we aren’t given the chance. You know I was a Watcher. My job was to help the Slayer, and I would like to continue to do so. Tell us what you know, and we can work together against this danger.”

Faith laughed bitterly. “Just like that, huh? You don’t even know what’s out there. You think the worst is over? Jesus, Hugh, things are just gettin' started. The whole damn plague was the pre-game!” 

“What do you mean? Pre-game?” 

Faith considered them for a moment silently, apparently wondering if she’d already said too much. She looked from Wes, to Buffy, to Xander, and finally to Anya, who simply nodded solemnly. 

Looking back at the rest of them, Faith sighed. “What do you know about the blood plague? About where it started?”

Wes frowned. “Most research suggested it was a virus spread from some sort of mutated animal blood in Asia. After the virus evolved, it started to be transmitted through the air and water.”

“Nah, Hugh, this ‘blood plague’? This thing didn’t come from some random wet market in Indonesia. It was magic.”

The stunned silence that followed her words seemed to convince Faith that they were taking her suitably seriously. As their expressions grew more and more horrified, Faith relayed the details of her and Anya’s imprisonment and what they’d learned while at the mercy of those responsible for the destruction of humanity. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Willow came back to consciousness very slowly. Her head throbbed, and her vision swam when she opened her eyes. She let out a low groan and tried to sit up. When her vision finally cleared, Willow looked around and realized that she wasn’t at home. There were windows in the small room she was in, but they were covered with heavy curtains. The low light made it impossible to make out details, so Willow casually lifted her hand and spoke the words to summon a flame. 

Nothing. 

Willow shook her head, trying to ignore the blinding pain coming from the base of her skull, and spoke the words again. 

Nothing. 

Willow’s heart began to pound in her chest. Her breathing came out harder, and her mind began to race. She couldn’t remember what had happened to her, let alone how she’d gotten here. The last thing she remembered was... _oh gods...Tara! What did I do?_

As if in answer to her question, a door opened behind her, letting in a flood of sunlight from outside. The light burned, and Willow couldn’t stop from flinching as she covered her eyes and whimpered softly. 

“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t think you’d be up yet.” Tara’s soft voice broke the silence. 

Willow heard the sound of the door closing and opened her eyes again to the muted light inside the room. “Where are we, Tara? What happened?”

Tara frowned and looked at Willow with a pitying expression. “You were going to do something awful, Willow. I couldn’t — I had to stop you until we could work everything out.” 

Something in Tara’s tone frightened Willow. “What do you mean? What did you do?”

_Please, goddess no! Don’t let her have taken my —_

“I...I bound your magic, Will. But it’s just — it’s just for a little while, okay? Until we can figure out how to help you. You were about to do some dangerous things and I’m scared for you.”

Willow felt her chest starting to tighten; it took more and more effort to breathe. Suddenly it felt like someone had lit a fire in the room and she couldn’t stop sweating. Her legs buckled, and somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the sound of Tara moving towards her as she fell. She lay on the floor somewhere between consciousness and oblivion; Tara’s voice came in as a hazy, garbled mess that only made sense every other word or so. 

“...be okay. I...you’ll be okay…”

“..want...protect you...keep...safe from…”

“...sorry...love you…”

The last thing Willow registered before she succumbed to darkness again was the feel of Tara’s hand gripping hers and the press of lips against her forehead. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buffy was hiding something; Spike hadn’t been able to peg down exactly how he knew that, but he did. From the moment she’d returned from her foray to see Wes, something in the way she moved and the way she wouldn’t look at him or Dawn completely led him to the knowledge that she was absolutely hiding something. He didn’t like it. To her credit, she was hiding it relatively well. The Bit had no idea anything was amiss; she’d simply barreled into Buffy the moment she’d walked in and asked to play a game as though Spike hadn’t spent the last hour playing every fool game that entered her little, girly brain. 

Since he’d managed to put all of his own worries out of his head following their impromptu spar/almost snog, Spike had been half hoping that he and Buffy could pick up where they’d left off the night before. However, the chances of that seemed to be slim with her current attitude. Pity that. He’d been entertaining ideas all day of how to get into her space again and see if he could get her to give off that lovely aroused scent that she had the previous night. He imagined sliding up behind her while she washed the dishes and grinding against her or pulling her hair to the side and gently biting at her neck. She’d blush so prettily, he was sure. There was no reason for her not to accept his advances, after all. They were obviously attracted to each other, and it had been longer than he cared to admit since he’d had any more action than a good wank.

It occurred to him that there was probably some rule in the Vampire Handbook about bedding Slayers, or even potential ones, but Spike found that with every day he spent with her, Buffy’s status mattered less and less to him. That was odd, considering that his whole hare-brained idea of having them stay with him had hinged on the possibility that her being a potential would make for some potent blood. He hadn’t fed from her since she’d gotten back, and though her blood had been sweet and lovely, he was fairly certain that there wasn’t anything inherently special about it. Well, he had healed from a magically life-threatening situation after drinking her blood, but he didn’t know if it was her specifically, or if any blood given freely at the moment would have done it. 

No, there was just something about her. Something that drew him in and begged for a taste. Something that had started before she’d nearly died; maybe as soon as she’d burst into his room and lobbed his own bloody boots at him. There was a fire in the girl; and unlike others of his kind, he’d never shied away from heat. He was very interested in _her_ heat. 

There — that’s how he’d do it. He’d offer to spar again in an attempt to get her mind off of whatever was bothering her. It’d be all innocent like, so she’d have no reason to refuse. They’d go out, he’d let her beat on him a little while, and then he’d turn the tables on her. Right when she thought she had the better of him, he’d flip her over, pin her to the ground, and press into her so she could feel him hard against her. She’d give a little gasp because she certainly wasn’t expecting his presence to be so...impressive. She’d wriggle around a little bit, which would have the lovely side benefit of situating him right between her soft thighs and letting him feel the heat from her pussy right against his cock. 

Well, after that, he’d just have to push against her a bit more; let her get a feel for what they could be doing. She’d probably pull him closer, which would let him feel her warm, luscious tits pressed up against his chest. He’d just have to reach up and palm one of them; there’d be no helping it. Once he’d kneaded it and rolled it around a bit, got her nipple nice and firm, he’d probably have to draw it into his mouth and give it a few gentle sucks before teasing it with his teeth. All the while, he’d still be grinding against her sensitive pussy, letting the hard line of his zipper press right against her clit with every pass. She’d likely wrap her legs around his waist and spread her legs wider to be helpful. That would let that tantalizing scent he’d caught last night spread through the air — just the memory had his mouth starting to water.

By then, of course, she’d be a moaning mess of writhing limbs and heaving breasts; be begging him to just take her like the rogue he was, she would. And, being a gentlemanly type of rogue, he’d just have to oblige her. It’d be no trouble at all to reach down and release his cock from its confinement in his jeans and divest her of whatever clothing she happened to be wearing — in his mind, she was wearing a skirt with no knickers because that would just be good manners on her part. Then, when she pleaded with him to please, just take her, he’d rub his cock over her soaked pussy a few times to get himself all covered in her juice; then he’d get his hands underneath her ass, hoist her up, and —

“Spike? Spike, are you okay? You’re drooling!” 

Dawn’s childish voice broke Spike out of his fantasy rather abruptly. His eyes widened when he realized what the little girl had caught him at, but he relaxed when he remembered that she’d have no way of knowing what he was thinking. His eyes snapped over to Buffy, who was seated across the room and giving him a curious look. Well, bugger. How long had he been sitting there drooling over the idea of Buffy’s naked body?

He quickly swiped a hand across his mouth and replied, “Nothin’, Bit. M’fine. Just a bit peckish, I expect.” He’d have to be blind to miss Buffy blushing slightly across the room and absently running a hand over her wrist where he’d bitten her that first night. Well now, wasn’t that interesting?

Dawn seemed to take him at his word, and smiled encouragingly. “Oh! You should have some of the meat and potatoes Buffy brought home! It was yummy!” 

Spike returned her smile and rubbed a hand over the top of her head. “Thanks, sweet pea, but don’t think that’ll quite be enough for me. I’ll get my dinner after you’ve gone to bed.”

After Dawn was in bed — that was the ticket! With the little one out of the way for the night, he’d be free to make his move. Might be a right interesting evening after all. 


	17. Athyrium filix-femina (Lady Fern)

**_Athyrium filix-femina_ ** **(Lady Fern)**

Spike waited impatiently for Buffy to finish her nighttime routine with Dawn. Now that he’d decided on exploring his attraction to her further, he was loathe to waste time. After all, in less than a week, their time together was presumably over unless he could change her mind between now and then. 

His original plan had been to get her to stay because a nice, regular supply of warm, human blood was worth the potential annoyances of living with humans. He’d planned to convince her of the wisdom of having another protector for the little one and get her to agree to extend their arrangement that way. All the better if she were attracted to him. Women who were attracted were much easier to manipulate. Now though...well, he’d have to be blind to miss how lovely she was. Have to be missing all of his bloody senses to miss how special she was. 

He allowed himself to fall back into his previously abandoned fantasy while he waited for her. He ran through several scenarios in which he felt he would be successful in seducing the girl. He was just considering the possibility of having her up against a tree — and weighing the odds of rough tree bark against her back being a stimulant or a deterrent — when she walked out of Dawn’s room and closed the door behind her. 

“Bit go down all right?” He hoped the question sounded genuine; it was. He genuinely hoped the Bit slept hard tonight. Would make his plans that much easier to see through. 

Buffy nodded and sank down into a chair a few feet away from him. One of the other vampires had brought it by earlier that evening; he’d claimed it was a spare, and he knew that one of Spike’s had been ruined in the attack on the cabin. It wasn’t much, but it was better than sitting on the floor. 

Spike swirled the bottle of moonshine he held loosely in his hand. He noticed Buffy giving it a hard look and raised it towards her in offering. Buffy wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Spike shrugged lazily and took a long swig. “Suit yourself.” 

“How can you drink that stuff? It smells awful.” Buffy frowned at the bottle as though it were personally offensive. 

Spike rolled his eyes. “Can’t get ciggies out here much anymore; gotta have at least one bad habit to keep my Evil Incorporated membership card!” 

Buffy answered with a sly smile. “Yeah, I guess you’d have to do some pretty nasty things to make up for playing Go Fish with a seven-year-old.”

“Hah! Says you! You just don’t know that I’ve been teaching her to play poker and count cards! It all balances out.” 

Buffy gave him one of those warm smiles that he was beginning to like so much and laughed tiredly. “If I didn’t know how solidly that kid has everyone wrapped around her little pinky, I might be worried. But if CPS comes knocking at our door, I’m blaming you.”

“Hell, I’ll just eat ‘em. No need to worry there.” He smirked at the baleful look she gave him. 

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes while Spike tried to decide what opener would get her to agree the quickest. He’d always known what to say to get Dru going; it had been a long time since he’d had to worry about how to seduce anyone else. Granted, he didn’t think Dru’s penchant for whips and chains would be his best bet here. 

Buffy was young; young and innocent unless he’d badly misjudged things. He’d have to be subtle or he’d spook her. 

“Wanna go spar again? I could go for some exercise.” 

Right, or she could just open the door wide for him like that. That worked too. Spike couldn’t help the leer that spread on his face. “That eager to get under me again, are you, pet?”

Buffy blushed a rather fetching shade of red and looked away. “That’s not what I — never mind. It was stupid.”

Spike rose to his feet and pointedly cracked the joints in his neck. He tried to sound casual when he replied, “Now, now, luv. Was just teasin’ you. Sure, a bit of...exercise sounds just right.”

He started towards the door without waiting for her answer. He opened it wide and made a sweeping gesture with his hand to encourage her to go out first. Buffy walked out the door with her head held high, but Spike could hear her pulse pounding away underneath her skin. 

They didn’t go far; Buffy stopped after barely a hundred yards when they reached a clearing surrounded by large, bushy ferns and claimed that she didn’t want to go so far that she couldn’t see the cabin or hear Dawn if she called. They faced each other awkwardly, seemingly unsure of how to start. All of Spike’s original intentions were momentarily forgotten as he watched Buffy shuffle uncomfortably from one foot to the other across the clearing. The moon was full and bright above them, and the glint of the moonlight on her hair caught him by surprise. Unbidden, some long shoved-into-a-deep-dark-hole part of himself started attempting to find a rhyme for gleaming again. Stupid sod. 

Right — the bird wasn’t going to seduce herself. Spike rolled his shoulders and dropped his body into a comfortably defensive stance. She’d surprised him a few times the night before, but he had her number now. She was young and inexperienced - in more ways than one - and it showed in the way she fought. Granted, he’d loved every second of their dance; her inexperience was part of what made it fun. She was predictably unpredictable, and he wondered if that would carry over into the way she fucked. He sure as hell hoped it did. 

Spike sized her up and began to leisurely circle around the clearing, allowing his demon face to come forward in anticipation. Buffy - who had yet to show any indication that she actually intended to spar - seemed to break out of whatever rabbit hole her little mind had been down and dropped into her own stance. Spike wondered why she looked so relieved to be getting ready to fight. 

She struck first this time; a ferocious ball of fists and kicks; and Spike realized that, unlike him, she actually meant for them to take this seriously. He’d only meant to rough her up a little. It wouldn’t do to hurt her too much if he had any intention of finding his way between her thighs anytime soon— and he had rather a lot of intentions to that end! But, a little bit of rough and tumble was good to get the blood and other juices flowing, and Spike allowed a grin to spread at the thought of that lovely scent she’d given off the last time they fought. Point of fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a whiff of it on the air already tonight. 

He put up a good show for her while subtly upping the ante from the previous night. What he lacked in speed and ferocity, he made up for in body contact. Last night had been about sussing out her skill and evading her shots; tonight was about using every possible excuse to press up against her or pull her back against him. The first few times, Buffy didn’t seem to notice. 

Spike knew, though, the exact moment she began to put the pieces together. He’d dodged one of her punches and used her own momentum to swing her into his arms and pin her back against his chest. He hadn’t been able to stop a soft growl from escaping when she’d struggled against him and inadvertently wiggled her arse against his already hard cock. The scent coming off of her had him salivating, and the temptation to reach down and bite down on her bared neck was almost more than he could take. 

He’d almost acted on it when she’d used his momentary distraction to jam a heel on his instep and break free. Spike cursed softly as she moved quickly away from him and looked for his next opening. He let his eyes roam over her lithe form in an effort to predict her next shot; but it was when he’d finally looked at her face again that he’d had to stop. 

Buffy’s face was pink and flushed; her cheeks bright even in the darkness to his enhanced sight. Her chest heaved from the effort she’d exerted to get away and her were eyes wide. When she spoke, her voice was soft and wary. “Spike...what is this?”

Spike decided to bait her a bit and fixed his expression into one of casual indifference. “What you talkin’ bout, pet? Just sparrin’ is all. S’what you wanted, right?” 

Buffy’s expression changed quickly, and not how he would have liked. Her eyes hardened and she straightened herself back up to her full height. “I’m not stupid, Spike. Don’t treat me like I am.” 

Well, fine then. Spike straightened up as well, but was unable to keep from pacing around her a bit; his inner predator incapable of resisting the urge to corner his prey. “All right, luv. No games. Had a bit of fun last night, and thought it’d be fun to try again.” He paused to look her up and down and smirk suggestively. “Seems like you were enjoyin’ it too.” 

Buffy glared indignantly, but her cheeks flushed even brighter. “So, what? You wanted to spar so you could try to cop a feel?” 

Spike took a deep breath and grinned at the scent of her arousal. She could fuss all she liked, but there was no hiding how she really felt about it. “Come on now, luv! No games, remember? Can’t hide that desire from me.” 

He tapped his nose pointedly and enjoyed the sight of her eyes widening in shock; she stammered for a moment without saying anything and glared at him reproachfully. There, let her stew on that for a bit. And stew she did; in fact, he felt a bit insulted when it became obvious that she’d gotten lost in thought. His demon rumbled indignantly that his prey/lover could lose focus on him so easily. He’d just have to get her back!

Before Buffy realized what was happening, Spike had crossed the space between them and put himself firmly in **her** space. She took a few steps back, but Spike followed doggedly. He’d be damned if he let her get lost in any kind of doubts or “common sense”; not when there promised to be some damn fine shagging in his future if he could just get her to hold still for a minute! 

As he advanced on her, Spike grinned playfully and asked, “Gonna run now, luv? S’alright. I like a good chase. Makes it even better when I catch you!”

Spike almost crowed when her heart rate picked up at his declaration; a fresh wave of her arousal hit the air, and he pushed forward with every intention of getting a taste of those luscious looking lips; she kept darting her little tongue out to wet them in her nervousness, and it was driving him mad. He took the last few needed steps to her...only to find her hand in the middle of his chest. 

“Spike, stop!”

If she hadn’t sounded almost afraid, he probably would have ignored her. Unlike Angelus, Spike had never gotten off on fear in his partners. Anticipation, sure. A little healthy wariness about his ferocity and size, well of course! Fear was different though; Spike had always rathered a willing partner than not. So, he stopped and just barely ignored the demon side insisting that if he just kissed her, she’d get over whatever it was giving her so much trouble. 

She spoke up again, her voice breathy and unsure. “Just...just give me a minute. Okay?”

He nodded and bounced uncomfortably on his feet. He watched her take in a deep breath and he wondered what battle she was fighting in her own head as she focused intently on her shoes. He decided to wait and see what she’d say; better to let her come to her own conclusion that shagging him would be brilliant. He could wait...for a few minutes, anyway. 

For all the intense thinking she seemed to be doing, her explanation, when it came, seemed ridiculous. “Spike, I’m not supposed to...you know...with vampires!”

Spike quirked an eyebrow and gave her an indulgent smile. “Says who?”

Buffy looked flustered for a moment before stammering, “You know...Jesus?”

What the—? Had the girl gone absolutely sack of hammers when he wasn’t looking? “Care to point that part of the Bible out to me, pet? Must have missed it in my last perusal.” Also, now that he thought about it— “And since when are you religious?”

Buffy let out a defeated huff and grimaced before she admitted, “Hell if I know, Spike. I’m kinda making this up as I go along!” 

The look on her face coupled with the sheer absurdity of their conversation was too much. Before he’d quite realized it, Spike was laughing. It started as a low chuckle but quickly turned into deep, full chested, raucous laughter. Every time he thought he had a handle on it, he’d hear her hesitant voice in his head blaming Jesus bloody Christ for her issues and he’d start all over again. Somewhere in his mind, he registered that she’d started laughing with him; and for a few minutes, the only sound in the otherwise quiet clearing was their shared laughter. 

By the time it finally slowed, they were smiling affectionately at each other. Spike marveled at the feeling. He’d loved Dru with all his heart — wouldn’t trade their time together for the whole of the world — but he couldn’t recall any time in their one hundred plus years together that they’d simply laughed. Certainly, they’d laughed together; but it had always been about their shared pain or the pain of their victims. He remembered her once dissolving into a fit of giggles because some unfortunate soul they’d killed had fallen at such an angle that his tongue had lolled out of his head; Dru said he reminded her of a puppy and she’d laughed about it for days. 

They’d never laughed like he was laughing with Buffy. It had never felt as free as this. The idea that this slip of a girl might offer something that he’d never known he was missing with his dark princess was equal parts infuriating and arousing. He’d thought he’d been around to have experienced the gamut of feelings one could have towards a potential lover, but Buffy was very swiftly proving to him how much he’d missed. 

That thought brought him back to her full, sweet lips; suddenly, he couldn’t go another minute without seeing if they were as soft and addicting as they looked. Their laughter immediately forgotten, he quickly closed the distance between them, drawing her close as his hand gently cupped her cheek. He’d be damned if she got away this time; not when he was so close and she looked so damnably, deliciously sweet. 

Buffy’s easy, open expression faded into anxiety, but she didn’t pull away; Spike wondered if she intended to stop him again. Wouldn’t happen, he decided. If she tried, he’d just kiss her until she realized what a good idea this was. The thought sent another rush of blood and desire towards his already hardened cock, and he couldn’t resist the urge to press against her soft core. 

Christ, she was hot as fire; hot as sunshine and just as deadly. Even through his jeans, Spike could feel her warmth against his erection, and the desire to see just how hot she was inside about did him in. He pulled her in tighter and groaned at the feel of her warm, perky tits up against his chest. His mind whirled all the various ways he could make her come just standing as they were; each new idea sending new jolts of pleasure down to his cock and making it impossible for him to resist grinding himself against her pussy.

Buffy gasped in surprise, and that was it! Absolutely it. The sight of her lips parted and the sound of her breathy moan when she felt him hard against her was the absolute end of his patience. She looked for a moment like she intended to stop him, but he cut her off before she could begin. “Shhhh, luv. Just let me…” 

After all the buildup and the persistent heat spreading across his otherwise cool skin, Spike half expected to go off in his pants like a schoolboy when he finally kissed her. Embarrassing as it would be, it could certainly be justified by the way she was setting his body ablaze without doing anything more than standing pressed up against him and giving off the most mouth-watering scent he’d ever known. 

As it turned out, her kiss wasn’t an explosion; it was a bloody revelation. In the split second it took for his mouth to cover hers in a kiss, Spike was an addict. He gripped her tighter and slid his lips across hers, so sweet and soft, until he couldn’t resist the urge to go deeper. Spike bucked his hips against her again, hoping to make her gasp again. She surprised him by moaning deeply and arching herself against his cock, and he used the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth to finally get a taste. 

Spike coaxed her tongue to slide against his; they dove and swirled, drifting apart occasionally to explore each other’s taste before coming together again and driving each other higher with the stroke of lips and tongue and the teasing nips of their teeth. 

He wanted more; had to have more. Had to see just how responsive she’d be when he stroked her breasts, her thighs, her cunt. The thought of her slick and hot and tight all for him had him growling into her mouth; he couldn’t decide how he wanted to have her first there. He could practically taste her from the heavy, thick scent of her arousal, but there were so many other ways he wanted to explore her. He pictured her moans if he were to tease her outer lips with his fingers before slipping them inside and rubbing his thumb over her clit. Would she buck against his hands or would she be frozen still in her pleasure? He had to know. 

She broke away suddenly to take a deep, shuddering breath and moan his name. Spike took that opportunity to bend his head to her neck and scrape blunt teeth over the warm, peachy skin over her pulse. God, to be able to taste her there! He’d tasted her blood, but the wrist was impersonal; to be able to hold her close while he drank her down would be heaven. Spike felt the pointed tips of her nipples pressed against his chest as he nibbled and nipped, and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach up and cup one heavy breast in his hand. 

Almost instantaneously, Buffy stiffened in his arms. It barely registered to him, and for a moment he was tempted to ignore it and keep going until she started responding again. That became impossible when he felt her hand move to his chest and weakly push him away. His demon rumbled at the interruption; she wanted to stop now? Now when they were just getting going? But her eyes were almost afraid again, and he pushed down the urge to take advantage of that fear. 

“What’s wrong, pet?” 

“I — I just need to stop for a minute.”

Spike frowned and looked her up and down. “Did I hurt you?”

Buffy shook her head and ran a hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing it out. “No, nothing like that. It’s just — was getting a little lost there for a sec, you know?” 

Spike smirked and pressed his hips close to hers again. “S’what’s supposed to happen, sweet. Means we’re doin’ it right. What’s the problem?” 

Buffy knew he wouldn’t like what she said, but with her mind clearing more every second, she was reminded of all the reasons she’d meant to stop him in the first place. She let out a deep sigh and braced herself for his response. 

“The problem is me, I guess. I want — Spike, that was amazing, but I — I can’t just sleep with you.”

He tilted his head slightly and smiled playfully. “Jesus again, is it? Bastard needs to quit gettin’ in our way.” 

Buffy smiled back and shook her head. “No...I just — I’ve never done this, okay? And I know we’re not in a normal world with normal dating or anything, but I...I guess I never pictured losing it outside in a forest with a member of the undead.” 

Spike chuckled and leaned in to nuzzle playfully at her neck. “Not exactly used to gettin’ it on with humans either, am I? Could make it nice for you, if you like. Go find somewhere quiet and a bit less open. Would suggest the house, but I doubt if even the Bit could sleep through all that noise you were makin’!”

“Hey, I wasn’t—” Buffy started to protest, but Spike put a finger gently against her lips. 

“Now, now, pet. No need to protest so much. I know how much you were enjoyin’ yourself.” 

Even after all the up-in-each-other’s-oral-hygiene they’d been doing a few minutes before, Buffy found herself blushing at his words. The insistent throb between her legs reminded her that she’d like to be enjoying it again, but this was not the time. She decided that being straight with him had worked so far, so she’d be better off to keep trying. 

“I was enjoying it...a lot. I’m not — this isn’t because you did something wrong or because I wasn’t really, really getting into it. But I don’t...this isn’t exactly something I just do, you know?”

For a moment, Spike considered what she’d said and allowed himself to be utterly confused by her. It’d been a grand snog; it was likely to be a brilliant shag if he could just get her going again. He’d been able to...convince her before. He wondered what she’d do if he simply kissed her again. The noises she’d been making...well, there went his cock again. Not that he’d completely softened - even with the interruption and rather disappointing conversation - but the thought of her whimpers in his arms was enough to bring him back to full mast in a matter of seconds. 

Spike looked back at her with every intention of using a few dirty tricks to get her revved up again, but the look on her face stopped him short. She was looking at him intently, with that soft expression of...trust that warmed places in him that should have been long cold and dead; like she knew that he wouldn’t push her too far. Bollocks. 

Spike sighed deeply and cast an almost apologetic glance towards his cock. _Sorry, mate. Soon, I promise._

“All right, pet. Not gonna force you.” 

She gave him one of those bright smiles that she seemed to save for people she cared about like Dawn and the Watcher. It was so sweet that he couldn’t help but add a little bit of innuendo in to get a bit of his own back. 

“Don’t take that to mean that I’m gonna back off now.” He gave her a predatory grin and leaned in close. “Now that I know what’s hiding just below the surface, I’ll be back for more.” He couldn’t resist giving her neck one last, parting nip before backing away again. “So you’d best prepare yourself for the next round.”

Buffy looked at him intently for what felt like a long time. So long, in fact, that he was beginning to think he’d pushed his luck too far as scared the girl off. Finally, though, she let out a deep, shaky breath and whispered, “Okay.” 

Satisfied that she wasn’t going to stake him next time he felt frisky, Spike smiled and nudged her back towards the house. “I’m gonna go check in with His Highness and the lads. Been a few nights since I’ve shown my pretty face around. Probably see about some dinner as well. I shouldn’t be too long.” 

Buffy nodded in understanding and turned to walk away before turning right back around again. “I’m feeling better since — Well, I’m just feeling better. Last time I saw Tara, she said I should be fine to...keep up my side of the deal again. So I’ll be ready for that tomorrow, okay?” 

Without waiting for his response, Buffy spun around and walked quickly back to the house. 

<><><><><><><><><><<><><><><>

“How are we feeling this evening, ladies?” Wes balanced the tray of food carefully in one hand so that he could close the door behind him. It teetered precariously for a moment, but he quickly brought his second hand back to steady it. From their beds, Anya and Faith watched him in amusement. In an effort to keep the information the two women had brought a secret until it had been brought to Angel for consideration, Wes, Xander, and Tara had taken care of all of their needs in shifts. 

Wes and Xander had gone to Angel first thing after sunset, not sure how he would take the news. Wes had been the more concerned party; it was one thing to try and conceal a potential from the general populous. So far as he knew, only Spike was aware of Buffy’s status; however, even if others knew, Wes felt confident that he could convince the others to accept her. After all, a potential was awarded no special powers, held under no sacred calling. In effect, she was just a normal young woman with extra training. 

A fully realized slayer was a different matter. Wes hadn’t had a chance to discuss Faith’s ideals as a slayer with her in the short time they’d had together, but if she were Council trained...well, it was unlikely the demon population would feel comfortable with her remaining in camp, especially after Willow’s actions with the vampires. 

Angel had taken the news as well as could be expected. He hadn’t insisted that they throw the slayer and her companion out on principle. Instead, he’d sat quietly in his chair for several minutes before declaring that this wasn’t a decision he was comfortable making without the community being made aware. It was decided that the leaders would be called the next night, and until then, Faith and Anya would be cared for by only the three who had already met them. They hoped that by doing that, people wouldn’t notice their presence until after the meeting. 

Wes had left Angel’s home and gone straight to the dining hall. He was halfway through his own meal when it struck him that no one had yet offered the women food. His British sense of hospitality chafed, and he’d stood up mid-bite, abandoning his own dinner, to get something to eat for the two women. As he’d walked quickly towards the building where Faith and Anya waited with the tray of food in hand, it occurred to him that he really could have finished his meal first. 

The two women eyed the food intently and wasted no time in digging in when he set the tray in front of them. Wes settled comfortably in a chair in the corner of the room while they ate and tried to make light conversation. Anya was more open than Faith by a long shot, and Wes found her honesty and blunt way of speaking refreshing. Usually, her remarks only drew Faith into the conversation when Faith felt that Anya had said too much. 

At least, that’s what had happened when Buffy visited here earlier. Anya had been the one to fill in the gaps when Faith would feel she’d revealed more than she should. Wes was still reeling from the information they’d been given. 

It had all been a mistake. A monumental, world-ending mistake, mind, but a mistake nonetheless. The two women had been prisoners of a vampire named Darla, a disciple and childe of a much older vampire simply called the Master. It seemed the Master had been trapped on a Hellmouth in southern California for decades; in that time, he’d slowly amassed a small army of followers through his remaining children and followers of the Aurelian line. According to Faith, the time below ground had “scrambled what brains the old batface had”, and he’d begun to pass his time by planning his domination of the human race. 

The Master believed that humans were nothing but chattel; livestock to feed his children. He had grown obsessed with the idea of controlling humanity and bestowing his descendants with the power he felt that they deserved: total power. To that end, he’d sought the services of a well-known, powerful - if somewhat untrustworthy - warlock by the name of Ethan Rayne. Rayne was a disciple of chaos. He served no master save chaos alone, and the Master’s proposal was just outlandish enough to catch Rayne’s attention. 

The Master wanted nothing less than control over the blood of humanity; the ability to control the minds and will of all humans so that vampires might finally have the means to become the dominant species on earth. The plan was to create a spell that would create a sort of mass thrall: under the spell, humans would be without will or purpose. They would offer themselves freely to their new masters to be used as food, pleasure, or whatever else the vampires desired. 

It seemed no one had anticipated Rayne’s betrayal; or at least, no one had anticipated the way in which he’d choose to betray them. Ethan Rayne was no fool. He’d secured safety for himself as part of the bargain; but unlike the Master, Rayne fully expected to be double-crossed. So, in full expectation that he would pay the price, Ethan had decided to simply be the agent of chaos that he was. 

He’d performed the spell as agreed upon, down to nearly the last letter. However, at the last moment, he’d invoked his demonic masters to let their wills influence the results of the spell. As it turned out, his masters enjoyed the chaos as much as he did. Instead of giving vampires power over the blood of men, the spell poisoned the blood of men. Instead of an endless supply of food and victims, the vampires would face starvation and death. Humans, as an unfortunate side effect, would become nearly extinct.

The Master had been inconsolable in his rage. Ethan had slipped away from the prison on the Hellmouth, but the Master had sent Darla, his favorite, to retrieve the traitorous warlock. Faith wasn’t sure if they’d actually found him - the last she’d heard, Darla had recruited another vampire famous for their thrall and some sort of clairvoyance to assist her. What they would do to him if they found him...well, death would be the kindest thing, she assumed. 

The Master was desperate to get Rayne back to reverse the effects of the spell. With the blood plague out of the way, the slate would be clean to try for his original plan. Humans might be few now, but chattel might be easily used for breeding as well as feeding. Vampires were immortal; one could not survive as an immortal without some measure of patience. 

Faith had been captured on a rescue mission at the Hellmouth. One of the Council’s last directives before they’d gone completely silent had been for Faith to try to get to the Master and kill him before he could see his plans through to fruition. A member of the Council had been abducted by one of Darla’s cronies, presumably for his knowledge of vampires and the arcane. Faith had been sent in to rescue the man and dust as many of the vampires as she could. She’d been spectacularly unsuccessful. Not only had she been unable to save her target - who had been dead and disemboweled by the time she’d found him - she’d come face to face with the Master himself. It had been a pathetically short “battle”. When she’d come to after blacking out under his bite, she’d been chained up in a dungeon. Apparently, the Master hoped to use her as proof of his success; the blood of a Slayer would be the perfect vintage to celebrate his victory, he said. 

Faith had been a prisoner for over 6 months. She’d been tortured, beaten, and starved, but not broken. Anya had been brought to the same dungeon three months ago - a vengeance demon who’d been summoned by Darla in order to seek vengeance on Ethan Rayne. Anya had refused the request; and Darla, in a rage, had managed to get Anya’s power center, an amulet, away from her. Anya’s master, the demon D’Hoffryn, had no sympathy for his protégé; he'd condemned her to life as a mortal until such time as she could reclaim her amulet. 

During their imprisonment, Faith and Anya had found companionship in their anger. They’d kept each other strong and sane in the face of the torture and pain. When a moment had presented itself in the form of one night of celebration in the Master’s halls - the two women heard someone was dead, but weren’t sure who - they’d taken the opportunity and run. They’d been running for nearly a week when they stumbled upon Tara and Willow. 

Wes listened with fascination as the story unfolded before him. Anya’s blunt way of describing the torture they’d endured disturbed him, but it left him with a clear understanding of what they had been through. He periodically allowed his eyes to wander to Faith as Anya told the story. The Slayer looked pained for a great deal of the story, only to quickly reshape her expression to one of indifference when she’d noticed him watching her. 

Wes was about to offer the women a second helping of the food when Xander walked in, a solemn expression on his face. He looked at the women, then Wes, and reported, “Angel’s ready for them.” 


	18. Anemone oregano (Oregon Anemone - Windflower)

**_Anemone oregano (_ ** **Oregon Anemone - Windflower** **_)_ **

Angel had seen a wide variety of supplicants before him in his role as leader of Ultimum Spes, but none had made quite the impact on him right off the bat that the skinny, brunette Slayer did. From the moment she walked in the door, she’d commanded the attention of all present simply by virtue of her presence. She’d walked in with a confident swagger despite what were obviously still painful wounds. Despite Angel’s firm entrenchment on the side of the “good guys”, there was still a part of him that rankled at the Vampire Slayer. 

She stood before him looking for all the world like she was the one in charge and he ought to be answering to her. Angel wondered if that was a trait shared by all slayers, or if this one was special. She swept her eyes over the gathered humans and demons; her hand twitched every few seconds as though ready to reach for her weapon. Angel almost wished she’d try something just so he’d have an excuse to give her the boot on principle. It was bad enough that he had a potential plague carrier like Dawn, and Willow had gone off the deep end; now he had a Slayer in the middle of his mostly demon camp. Somebody upstairs hated him. 

Angel had tried to keep the meeting to just a few leaders of each community, but word had spread like wildfire. When the majority of the camp had showed up at sundown, his choices had quickly narrowed to ‘allow everyone to come in’ or ‘deal with a crowd outside his door for the foreseeable future’. So, he’d let them in with the express understanding that anyone who got rowdy would be thrown out with extreme prejudice. 

“So — Faith, was it? I hear you and your companion have had quite an adventure. I’m assuming someone has explained where you’ve found yourself and how we run things?”

Faith shrugged indifferently, but her eyes still snapped back and forth every time someone moved. “Yeah, Harris and the Brit explained things. This is some kind of human/demon summer camp and you’re the head honcho. Seemed about all I needed to know.”

Angel noticed Wes a few feet behind her smacking a hand against his forehead and fought the urge to put the impudent girl in her place - hard. He chose to give her a hard smile instead. “I suppose to a slayer, that’s more or less right. We’ve managed to keep the peace between humans and demons for over a year now; potentially the only place on earth that’s accomplished that. I’m sure you can appreciate that having a Slayer around would be...unsettling to some of our community members.”

The girl snorted disdainfully. “You mean like you? You know - me Vampire Slayer, you vampire? It’s all right, big guy; you can admit it. I make you nervous.” 

That time Angel didn’t hold back the deep growl that rolled through his chest. He narrowed his eyes at her, but didn’t move from his seat. He could see people all around the room shifting nervously. “Watch it, girl. So far, my people have healed you, fed you, and offered you shelter and safety from whoever you’re running from. Most people would be grateful.” 

“Most people here probably weren’t tortured by vampires recently. Sorry if my manners ain’t to your likin’, Boss Man. I don’t usually make a habit of kissin’ the asses of murderers!” 

Wes almost groaned out loud. This wasn’t going well. He had thought he’d explained the situation sufficiently to Faith before bringing her to Angel, but it would seem he’d been wrong. At this point, it’d be a miracle if Angel didn’t oust her for her lack of manners alone. 

He wasn’t sure what would happen if Faith left. He was long removed from the Council of Watchers, but the desire to further the mission and help the Slayer was deeply ingrained, it would seem. After listening to her story, Wes had no doubt that there was still great evil to be dealt with. He had told the story to Angel before the community meeting, but the vampire had seemed dubious about its validity. He said he wanted to meet her before making any decisions about whether or not to seek out this Master. Something about the way Angel had referred to the other vampire had been...strange. Before Wes had had the chance to ask him about it, they’d been interrupted, and the opportunity had not presented itself again. 

Angel’s response tore Wes out of his own thoughts and back to the situation at hand. Angel looked every inch the alpha predator without even trying, it seemed. Though he reclined casually in his chair, he exuded power and danger; and Wes wondered if that weren’t half the reason for Faith’s reaction. It was not a Slayer’s norm to talk to vampires, let alone with civility. To accept sanctuary from a vampire would likely be anathema to one called to slay them. 

“You’re not a prisoner **here** , Slayer. You can leave anytime. You were brought here out of the kindness of my peoples’ hearts. Demons made your food; they helped build the building and the beds you’ve been resting in. Vampires have been patrolling the borders at night while you’ve slept. Your own companion was a demon until very recently, if I’m not mistaken. So if you’re looking for a villain here, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. That being said, if you’re feeling the urge to start following your calling...well, let’s just say that there is strength in numbers. We protect our own.”

Faith looked shaken for a moment as she cast a quick glance around the room but quickly regained her composure. Wes took advantage of her silence and walked up behind her to answer in her place. “The Slayer is not a threat here, Angel. Her calling is to protect humanity from demons. Humans are in no danger here, so she is under no obligation to harm the demons living peacefully alongside them.”

Angel smirked, looking Faith directly in the eye when he spoke to Wes. “You sure she knows that?”

Faith turned fiery eyes on Wes, her anger obvious, but said nothing. Wes gave her a pointed look before he turned back to Angel and answered, “Yes. She knows that the information she brought is more important than anything else. We’ve all learned to adapt to this new world. The Slayer will have to be no different. There is too much at stake.” 

When Faith went to fire back a response, Wes laid a hand on her shoulder and subtly shook his head. Angel seemed to enjoy her obvious discomfort with the situation and took the opportunity to make it clear to Faith — and everyone else — who would have the final say in the matter. “At the end of the day, Slayer, you’ll have to make the same choice every single member of our community makes when they come here. Can you live in peace? Can you live and work and protect those different than yourself? If you can’t...well, there’s the door.” 

Angel was grandstanding and he knew it. He watched the Slayer’s eyes narrow at his declaration and knew she understood what he wasn’t saying. The words were really for the benefit of the others in the room. They needed to hear him say them; they needed to feel as though the law had been laid down and even the Slayer would be subject to it. What was not said was far more important, but he was certain that she got the message. This camp was his. These people were his. She could fall in line or leave and be on her own again. Angel wasn’t completely convinced that she wouldn’t just leave. It would go against all of her training and instincts to live in peace with demons - especially vampires- and this particular slayer didn’t seem the type to be peaceful in the best of times. 

Faith didn’t make Angel wonder long. She seemed ready to fire back at him the moment he gave his ultimatum, but she closed her mouth when she caught sight of Anya shoving Wes aside to stand behind her. The former vengeance demon had been standing back, her presence not nearly so worrying to others at the camp as a Slayer. Before Faith could open her mouth again, Anya leaned in to whisper fiercely in her ear. Even with vampire hearing, Angel almost had to lean forward to catch her words. 

“We can’t afford to lose potential allies with Darla likely hunting us; and I have no desire to die from exposure in the woods because you couldn’t play nice with demons. Please think of my comfort before you piss him off!” 

Angel fought the urge to grin when Faith looked physically pained as she listened to Anya. He’d never been this close to a slayer before, and he was fascinated by her. Spike had always been the one with the obsession with slayers - one reason Angel was glad his second in command had skipped out on this particular meeting. Personally, Angel had never understood the draw. As vampires, they were the top of their food chains; the only real danger to them came in the form of that one little girl in the whole world. Why would anyone seek her out? Sure, it was a feather in the cap of the vamp who took her out, but Angelus had preferred to earn his notoriety in other ways. Angel preferred not to be noticed at all. 

Faith let out a frustrated huff and glared at him with an icy expression. “I hear you, Boss Man. I’ll play nice.” 

Anya elbowed Faith pointedly. The Slayer glared but bit out, “Thank you for lettin’ us stay.” 

Angel didn’t hold back the urge to grin then. “See? We’re all going to get along great!”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Axel stalked slowly through the trees. The bright moonlight coupled with his enhanced vision made the trail easy to traverse. He almost always volunteered for this patrol; the terrain was just challenging enough to be interesting, and there was usually something worth hunting for a late night snack. He could count on one hand the times he’d come across anything worth mentioning in the past year, but the patrol still needed to be done. Tonight, he was glad for the familiarity. 

The community meet about the Slayer had been something else. The moment she’d agreed to stay and follow their rules, the leaders of the demon community had lost their collective minds. Everyone had assumed that a Slayer would refuse to live in a community with demons. Wasn’t natural. So when she’d actually agreed to follow the rules and asked to stay, they’d panicked - the vampires especially. It wasn’t enough that the red witch had pulled the wool over their eyes with the fuckin’ blood oath; now they had a goddamn Slayer in their camp. Whose side was Angel on, anyhow?

Axel wasn’t sure what to think. The thought of a Slayer in his home made his demon bristle. Hadn’t they already made enough changes? Would people ask a man to live with a tiger unchained and hungry in his house? 

Axel already had to adjust to hunting deer and other game instead of humans; it had been a necessity, but definitely not a desire. Vamps were made to hunt humans. Anything else felt like it wasn’t enough - like an itch between your shoulders that you can’t scratch. Hunting the animals gave them the hunt and the violence, but it was human blood that hit the spot where nothing else would. Having to trade and accept what the humans offered rankled, but he - like everyone else - made the best of a bad situation. It didn’t hurt that, as a human, he’d lived on a reservation with his grandparents; his grandfather had been stubborn as a mule when it came to Axel knowing how to hunt and track and all the other things a “real” man of the Nez Perce Tribe ought to do well - including drinking his liver away. 

Axel had been turned almost thirty years ago; he was young enough to feel the frustration of a fledge at holding his demon at bay, but old enough to recognize that the restraint was necessary for his survival. Most of the older vampires at the meeting had stayed silent, trusting their leader’s decisions; some of the younger members hadn’t shown quite so much restraint. 

One of them had actually had the balls to approach Angel after most of the community had left and ask if he was actually trying to get them dusted or if he was just stupid. Angel’s roar had reverberated through the building and he’d had the younger vamp’s neck firmly in his grasp before anyone had even realized that he’d moved. He hadn’t dusted the boy, but he’d certainly given him a thrashing that he’d feel for days - even with fresh blood. 

Axel didn’t understand why Angel hadn’t just sent the Slayer away. They didn’t need her. They managed well enough - or at least they had until the red witch’s deception had come to light. It wasn’t a perfect existence, but it wasn’t terrible. Humans and demons were living in relative peace. Why fuck it up by letting a Slayer in? What possible explanation was there? 

He wondered if Xander would have a different perspective, and resolved to stop by to see him on his way back into camp. Xander always had a way of explaining things in a way that made sense to him. Axel wasn’t stupid, but he also admitted that he wasn’t often a deep thinker. His instinct was to hunt, to kill, to protect his own. Everything else came after.

Axel was just about to call it a night and head back when the scent hit his nostrils. Blood - lots of it - and fear. His demon, already so close to the surface when he wore his other face, responded instantly and spurred him to find the source. If he was lucky, it’d be something he could hunt. 

He moved silently through the trees, senses honing in on every detail. Vampires were first and foremost predators, and he reveled in the anticipation of finding his prey. As he drew closer, the glee of his demon faded and sharpened into anxiety. Something was wrong - very wrong. While the scent of blood on the breeze was enticing, there was too much of it to be normal. The closer he got, the stronger it became until he was practically high on the smell of blood, sweat, and terror. 

Axel approached the edge of a tree line silently, listening carefully for any sign of movement. When nothing caught his attention, he moved cautiously into the open. 

_Oh fuck. Jeezus fuck, this ain’t good._

Bodies lay scattered all around across the clearing; humans and demons alike had been savagely killed and left for dead. Axel took it all in, noting uncomfortably that some of the faces were familiar to him. He vaguely recalled that there had been a small group sent out to one of their planting fields to begin their fall harvest, but he hadn’t paid any attention to how long they had been gone or when they were expected back. 

Axel made himself look closer at the carnage. Deep slashes ran across every body; throats had been ripped out and bodies had been defiled. The victims were left with their eyes and mouths wide open; their final screams of fear etched on their faces even in death. 

Whoever or whatever had done this had wanted to leave a message. Vampires wouldn’t have left so much blood to drain; many demons wouldn’t have left so much meat if it were a simple hunt. This was intentional. These people were meant to suffer and leave a message for whoever found them. 

_We know you’re here. Look what we can do so close to your home._

He needed to get back - now. He needed to tell Angel what had happened. He needed to not be alone so close to the bodies. His demon registered the sweet smell of human blood and roared for him to feed. What would it hurt, after all? They were already dead. No one would know if he got himself a good meal before heading back to camp to raise the alarm. His fang marks wouldn’t stand out among the litany of other wounds on every body. 

He knelt beside one of the humans and turned them over, only to rear back in disgust. He knew this one. The idea of feeding - desecrating? - their body rankled in an uncomfortable way. Axel moved quickly to the next, and then another; becoming increasingly enraged as every recognized face seemed to be judging him with unseeing eyes. After the fourth body, he stood up and roared his frustration into the night. This was what happened when you spent too much time around the fucking bleeders! A vamp couldn’t even eat in peace! 

Rather than examine his own thoughts about it too deeply, Axel swerved away from the bodies and began to run back towards the camp, as if his speed would take him away from the sightless, judgmental faces that suddenly seemed to haunt him. He was so distracted by his need to escape that he never noticed that he was being followed. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buffy had felt on edge all day. It wasn’t enough that she’d spent the night tossing and turning, her thighs clenching at the memories of Spike’s hands and mouth on her body. It had taken forever to fall asleep; it might have been easier if she had been able to find her own release before coming to bed, but there just hadn’t been any way. She obviously couldn’t do anything while lying in bed beside Dawn, and she had been terrified that if she started anything in the living room, Spike would come back at an inopportune moment and catch her. 

Her imagination, ho-bag that it was, made things worse by giving her plenty of ideas of just what the object of her desire might do if he caught her. Images of Spike replacing her hands with his own and sliding his fingers inside made her ache with want. In her mind, she’d seen him kissing her neck as he worked her over with his hands. She’d have grasped the back of his head and pulled him close, choking out some kind of breathy, sex-kitten plea to please, don’t stop. Imagination Spike had let out one of those sexy growls and rubbed her in all the places that made her want to shiver and scream and sob in pleasure. 

When his touch brought her over the edge in her fantasy, she’d had to clench her hands in the sheets in real life to resist the urge to - what? Touch herself while next to a sleeping child? Ew! Go out into the living room, strip down, and wait for him to get back? While Horny Buffy gave an enthusiastic nod of approval, Responsible, Adult, Mature, (Terrified) Buffy realized that ultimately, that was a bad idea. 

It was not a new thought. In fact, it was why she’d stopped him when their kiss had been about to turn into something more. Buffy hadn’t originally gone to that clearing with the intention of making out with Spike. She really had meant to spar, thinking that the exercise would help diffuse the tension between them. Look back, she realized how stupid that had been. _Why yes, Buffy, let’s tempt the horny vampire by hitting him and pushing up against him! While you’re at it, let’s make sure that every time he grabs you, you angle your head just so that he can get a good look at your neck! That’s not going to backfire on you at all!_

She hadn’t really been surprised when he’d kissed her. In fact, if her mind hadn’t been full of a ghostly Giles cleaning his glasses and giving her one of those fatherly, disappointed looks, she might have kissed him first. She hadn’t been lying to him when she’d said that she wasn’t supposed to do...what they were doing with a vampire. Her training had been clear: see vampire, kill vampire; move on to next vampire. Nowhere in her training had the subject of vampire kisses or even that vampires could have entirely-too-kissable lips come up. There had been no chapter on how good such a dangerous mouth could feel when he scraped his teeth against her neck. Giles must have skipped that part; that, or the Council research was seriously incomplete. 

Buffy remembered the way Spike’s lips had felt; the way his tongue had teased hers. She hadn’t known a tongue could make her feel like that. She’d never looked at someone’s tongue before and thought _Gee, I bet that’d do it for me,_ but Spike had definitely broadened her horizons, as Giles would have said. 

Buffy had gone back and forth on her dilemma of how to handle the insistent desire still pulsing between her legs every time she so much as breathed. Finally, realizing that there was no good way to handle it without potentially opening a whole new can of worms, Buffy had forced herself to take slow, deep breaths until sleep had claimed her. She’d never even heard Spike come back in. 

When she woke up the next morning, her head was still a mess. She was happy that Dawn had woken up shortly after her; her hope was that the little girl’s enthusiasm would provide a welcome distraction from the turmoil of her thoughts. 

As it turned out, Dawn’s chattering only distracted her so much. Even in the middle of making Dawn breakfast, or playing a game, Buffy found her thoughts drifting back to the vampire currently sleeping in the next room. She blushed when she remembered seeing him naked that first morning when she’d been so upset about the mess of alcohol containers on the floor. Granted, she hadn’t seen his...thing, but after feeling it up against her last night, her imagination was doing its level best to ‘fill in the blanks’. 

Buffy had spent the day doing anything she could think of to keep her mind off of Spike. She was marginally successful. She’d taken a quick walk into camp around midday for food; she’d seen Xander along the way and had stopped to talk to him. When she’d returned home, it had been even harder. By mid afternoon, Buffy was fighting the urge to march through Spike’s door and...Well, she hadn’t quite decided what she’d do when she got there. 

Wes saved her from her thoughts when he’d stopped by towards sunset with news from the previous night’s meeting. Buffy shook her head when he described Faith’s attitude towards Angel. The Slayer certainly wasn’t going to make things easy for herself. Something in the way Wes talked about the woman gave Buffy pause, though. 

“Would you go with her? If she left, I mean.”

Wes was silent for a moment; then sighed heavily. “‘I’m not sure’ seems like a daft thing to say. I hardly know the woman, do I? But…”

Buffy finished for him. “But she’s the Slayer. You were a Watcher. Your brain’s all conditioned to help her, isn’t it?” 

“I suppose it is. It’s hard to erase a lifetime of training, even after all of this; and she...she needs help, Buffy. The things she’s been through recently...no one should have to get through that alone.” 

Buffy nodded in understanding, then remarked casually, “Doesn’t hurt when she’s pretty, I guess.”

Wes glared at her. “Her appearance has nothing to do with my duty, thank you.”

Buffy gave him a little smile and patted his hand placatingly. “Absolutely nothing - I hear you. So what’s the plan?” 

Wes frowned at her, but decided to ignore her baiting. “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t had a chance to speak with Angel since last night. He wasn’t...that is to say; Faith didn’t give him much reason to want to help her get to the bottom of this Master business.” 

“Hey, he let her stay. That’s a start. He’s the leader of a camp where there are a ton of demons; I don’t think it would have been very surprising if he hadn’t okayed a Slayer staying. I mean, that’s why we’re keeping me being a potential under wraps, isn’t it?” 

Wes gave her a pointed look. 

“What?” 

He sighed; then admitted, “I rather think that particular cat is out of the bag. We already knew that Tara was aware of your status, and when you were...indisposed at the clinic, Spike let it slip that he too was aware. I’d say there’s a very good chance that Angel’s not nearly as in the dark as we assumed him to be.” 

Buffy paled. Spike knew? Spike knew she was a potential slayer, and he’d still tried to…

“What did Spike say about it?” She asked warily. 

“Not much, truthfully. It came up when we discussed why the magic of the oath was negated when he drank your blood. He wondered if your status as a potential might have had something to do with it. 

“That’s it? That’s all he said?”

Wes’s expression turned curious. “Yes. Should he have said more?” 

Buffy floundered for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. How could she explain that she was suddenly scared that Spike’s interest was based on her being a potential? Maybe it was some kind of kick for him. Maybe it was some kind of weird vampire bragging right: bang a Slayer (or a potential if no Slayer was available) and have a story to tell the boys around a pint of blood. 

It all made sense, really. Of course Spike wasn’t interested in her. He was interested in her as a potential. He had some sort of weird curiosity, like she was an exotic zoo animal, and he thought he could manipulate her because she was young and naive. God, how stupid could she be? Maybe he really did think that her blood was special and thought that she’d give him more if he seduced her. And she’d almost…

Suddenly, Buffy remembered that Wes was waiting for an answer. “Oh. Um, no, I guess not. Just...just caught me by surprise, you know? He hadn’t mentioned anything about it.” 

Wes nodded and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, Buffy, I don’t think he intends you or Dawn any harm. I was...rather specific with him about what would happen if I saw any evidence of mistreatment of you or Dawn. Much to my surprise, he took excellent care of her while you healed. We even...talked a bit, some nights. I won’t go so far as to say he’s completely trustworthy, but I do believe there’s more to him that meets the eye.”

Buffy heard the words, but couldn’t shake the aching feeling lodged in her gut. Spike may have taken care of Dawn, but what if he did that expecting some kind of reward? What if he thought her blood was off the table, so he was trying for something else? 

Buffy didn't tell Wes any of the things she was thinking; instead, she simply nodded and told him that she was sure he was right and she wouldn’t worry about it. Yeah right. _And the Golden Globe for best liar goes to...me!_

They lapsed into silence then, each lost to their own thoughts. Dawn came in eventually from the front ‘yard’ where she’d been playing and asked Wes if he’d take her for a walk to the clover hill before the sunset. He’d agreed, and Buffy couldn’t think of a single thing she could say to get them to stay without raising suspicions. 

They’d only been gone for a few minutes when Buffy heard movement from Spike’s room. Because of course the stupid vampire would wake up as soon as everyone else was gone. Why wouldn’t he? Buffy huffed in annoyance and considered hiding outside until the sun was completely gone. 

Spike emerged from his room a few minutes later. Buffy stayed silent, unsure of what to say. That seemed to happen a lot where Spike was concerned. Maybe if she stayed very, very still he wouldn’t notice her? 

“Evenin’, luv. Where’s the Bit?” 

Damn, so much for her dreams of being a chameleon and blending into the background. 

“She’s out for a walk with Wes. They should be back any minute though!” The words came out in a rush, and she winced at how tense she sounded. 

Spike must have noticed because he looked straight at her and asked, “Somethin’ the matter, pet?” 

“What? No, nothing’s the matter! Why would anything be the matter? I’m just hungry, and it’s been a long day, and I think I’ll go stretch my legs outside until they get back, okay?” Buffy groaned internally; even **she** could hear how stupid she sounded.

She was halfway to the door when he grabbed her wrist. Buffy tried to avert her eyes, but suddenly Spike’s hand was under her chin, forcing her to look at him. All he did was say her name, “Buffy” in that low tone of voice that immediately sent tingles between her legs, and immediately all of her anxiety was gone. 

In its place was anger. After all of her worrying, the sinking feeling in her stomach was quickly replaced by hot rage. How dare he? How dare he look at her like that when he was just using her? How dare he pretend like she should trust him and let him touch her like that when all he wanted was to sate some sick vampire curiosity?

Her face hardened and she pulled away from him. She hated how genuinely confused he looked, as though there was no possible reason she should be angry at him. 

“What crawled up your arse and died?” 

That did it - there was no way to **not** respond to that! Without thinking, Buffy reared back with one fist balled up. Before she really considered what she was doing, she was already lunging forward, punching Spike square on the nose. 

Spike reared back with a pained roar. The sound rattled Buffy and momentarily broke her out of her angry haze. 

“What the bleedin’ fuck was that for?” Spike’s eyes watered as he glared at her, one hand holding his nose steady as blood streamed out. 

Buffy floundered for a moment, but refused to back down. “You...you were rude!”

“I was — do you just go off and lob one at anyone who’s ‘rude’ to you? I just asked you a bloody question, you daft bitch!” 

“Y-yeah, a rude question!” Her anger was shifting quickly to guilt, and Buffy had the sneaking suspicion that she’d made a very big mistake. 

Spike pulled his hand away from his nose, blood dripping from his fingers as he stalked toward her. Buffy backed away quickly; but, just as he had the previous night, Spike refused to let her escape. For a moment, Buffy thought he’d take a swing at her too; but he didn’t. Instead, he got right up in her face and growled out, “You know, for all that you humans go on about the demons being the one without control, you didn’t see me throwing fucking shoes at you when I was annoyed. Didn’t hit you when you brassed me off. It weren’t a demon who came after Dawn; it was a bloody human! Wasn’t a demon that put a leash on half the community because of prejudice. It was a human! So how ‘bout, for a minute, you pretend you’re a sodding demon and talk to me instead of just goin’ off and beatin’ on me?”

Buffy’s eyes were wide and for a few, long seconds she had nothing to say...because he was right. She recalled with horror all of the times she’d considered ‘casual’ violence towards him as a response to frustration. Their sparring didn’t count, she thought. That had been a mutually chosen...exercise. But he was right about the rest of it. When she’d been angry with him - annoyed even - she’d almost always instinctively turned to some kind of physical violence. Why did she do that? She hadn’t reacted that way when the humans in Redding had annoyed her or pissed her off. Hadn’t swung at Darrel when he’d suggested leaving Dawn behind. She’d even been angry at Wes and Dawn a few times, but had never considered socking them in the nose the way she just had Spike. 

She stepped away again and put a hand up to stop him from following. “Just...just give me a minute to think, okay?” She couldn’t think with him so close. Her body and mind were already confused without him being so solidly in her space. That’s all they needed right now: to mix up hormones and physical violence and miscommunication. Buffy was pretty sure that was how you ended up in an abusive relationship. 

Spike stood in front of her, trying to keep himself from snarling and putting her in his place as he would with another vampire. He knew exactly why she’d done what she did, but he couldn’t even hint at it without giving away that he knew she was a potential. 

Damn Watchers had beaten it into their girls’ brains that demons were less than they were; they were animals, lesser beings. If something was less than you, why would you treat it with the same respect you gave everything else? Lots of people beat dogs that misbehaved. Hell, people beat and killed other humans for being less - why should it be surprising that a human with that training would treat a demon any differently? Granted, that wasn’t to say that demons were any kind of high and mighty about equality; but mostly a demon was either violent towards others or it wasn’t. A vampire’s demon would always have the urge to bite and kill a human; meanwhile, a loose skinned demon had no desire for violence towards anyone and was happy to live in peace. Humans were the ones that tended to fluctuate. 

Spike considered all of this as he watched Buffy perform what he suspected were great feats of mental gymnastics. Almost thought he even saw smoke rising out her ears at one point. Finally, though, she seemed to come to a decision and lifted her eyes to meet his. She looked at his still bloody nose for a moment and turned to grab a cloth from the counter. She shyly handed it to him and talked while he cleaned himself up. 

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. There are lots of reasons and excuses we could talk about as far as why, but I think that’s the most important part. I’ve been a...a mess all day, and you just...you kinda bring things out in me, Spike.” 

He leered at her - a feat with a cloth shoved up against his bloody face - and she blushed as she continued. 

“You know what I mean! Anyway, like I said. I was already kind of worked up before we started talking and I took that out on you. So, I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be some sort of example for Dawn and here I am throwing punches when you ask me a question I don’t like. That’s not okay, and I admit that.” 

“What had your hackles raised?” 

_Well, here goes nothing._ “Finding out that you...you know what I am. Wes told me about your talk with him when I got hurt.”

“Ah. What of it?”

Buffy looked at him incredulously. “What of it? Spike, seriously? You’re a vampire, I’m a potential slayer! Not that there’s a huge chance of me being the real thing at this point, but still! There are some obvious issues here! And then I thought...when we...that you might be…” Buffy couldn’t quite get the words out, but Spike seemed to understand. 

“You thought I might be using you or have some kind of Slayer kink.” 

Buffy nodded slowly, crossing her arms over her chest to hold herself. 

Spike shrugged casually and admitted, “I was.”

Before he could say another word, her fist was already balled up and ready to fly. White hot rage and betrayal spread faster than a wildfire in her heart. Spike must have anticipated her response because he caught her fist halfway towards his face. 

“Steady on, Buffy! Wasn’t finished! When I made the offer to you and Dawn, yeah, your being a potential Chosen bird had quite a bit to do with it. Have me a bit of a reputation when it comes to Slayers - and no, we’re not gonna bloody talk about it right now - and wondered if potentials were as much fun. Things are different now, though, yeah? Sometime between the gunshots, and the blood, and the fucking endless games of go-bloody-fish, things got different. Don’t know how they’re different; don’t know how to name what’s been happenin’, but I’m man enough to admit what I did. Wanted you at the beginning because I thought your blood might be special - might give me an edge. Now...well, now I just bloody well want you, don’t I?” 

The rage faded almost as quickly as it had started, and Buffy’s fist loosened until they were just standing there, face to face, holding hands. She averted her eyes, unable to meet his when she whispered, “Why?”

“Why do I want you?” Spike chuckled lowly. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it, pet? Don’t rightly know. Never had any interest in Slayers like this, or even another human. Don’t know if it’s just scratchin’ an itch or if...don’t think it’s that though. Whatever it is, think it has the potential to be right interestin’, don’t you?” 

Before Buffy could answer, they both caught the sound of footsteps on the porch. Wes and Dawn were back. Spike’s hand rose briefly to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear; then he stepped away — far enough that it wouldn’t look like they’d been doing...whatever it was they’d been doing. 

“We’ll finish this later, yeah?” He was already walking into the kitchen as he called over his shoulder. 

“Yeah...later.” Buffy answered wistfully before turning to meet Dawn and Wes with a bright, shiny smile. 


	19. Iris Californicae (Pacific Coast Iris)

**_Iris Californicae_ ** **(Pacific Coast Iris)**   
  


Fucking Angel! Always needing something at the most bloody inopportune times! Spike allowed himself to fantasize about a variety of ways to rid himself of the overgrown lump of broodiness on his way to Angel’s cabin. Buffy had just gone in to put Dawn to bed, leaving Spike to drift happily in fantasies of Buffy wanting him to show her just how the pain of a bite could be used to take pleasure higher. He’d gotten nice and involved in one where she’d climbed onto his lap, settled herself on his cock, and ridden him hard until she’d come screaming his name to the heavens, his bite at her climax turning her into a quivering, moaning mass in his lap. 

He’d just gotten to the good bits when the sound of someone running up to the door broke him out of his thoughts. The intruder hadn’t even had time to knock before Spike had been on his feet, crossing the room to open the door. He’d swung it wide, glaring at one of the younger vampires and growling, “This had better be good!” 

Turns out it had been pretty good. Apparently, Spike had missed the memo about that evening’s meeting. His eyes had widened in surprise at the word “Slayer” and he’d pressed the other vampire for details - fast. 

Had he been so wrapped up in Buffy and Dawn that he’d missed something as important as a bloody Slayer taking up residence in the camp? Apparently, he had. When he’d filled in all the details of the meeting, the younger vampire had stalled before saying, “Spike, you gotta come with me. As soon as everyone left the meeting, Angel said he was headin’ home for the night. Twenty minutes later Axel came tearin’ back into camp sayin’ somethin’ about dead people at the border of the camp. He got to Angel; then came runnin’ back lookin’ for you. He says Angel’s gone and lost his mind! Tearin’ shit up at his cabin and drinkin’ like a fuckin’ fish! Couple of the boys tried to get him to calm down, but he’s threatenin’ the heads of anyone who comes in! So we figured...we figured we oughtta find you.” 

If the knowledge that the great git wasn’t one to go on a roaring bender on any given Tuesday night hadn’t been enough to concern him slightly, Spike might have turned his visitor away. As it was, he was incredibly tempted to shoot the messenger. He’d heard Buffy stepping back into the room and turned to give her the news. He’d noted the way she looked away guiltily when he mentioned the meeting about the Slayer and almost growled. 

She’d known - somehow she’d known about there being a Slayer in camp, but hadn’t said anything to him; not even when they’d talked about her being a potential earlier. Would it have been that hard? “Hey Spike, being a vampire, I just thought you’d like to know that the Slayer - you know, the one girl chosen in all the world to kill you and your kind - is in camp. No, no need to thank me. I just care about you so much and find you so devilishly handsome that I’d hate for you to be caught unawares if the murderous bint happened to pop out from behind a bloody tree!”

All right, so she likely wouldn’t have sounded just like that, but the point stood. Spike indulged himself in a self-righteous fume on his way to Angel’s cabin. Not a brood, mind you. Heavens no - that market was solidly cornered by their resident Drunk-in-Chief. Spike would simply sulk for a while and take his revenge where he could find it. 

Spike was still several hundred feet away from Angel’s cabin when the sounds of the mayhem inside reached his ears. He shot a quick look at the younger vampire, who simply shrugged. Spike took off at a jog to the front door. The door was closed, but Spike could see Angel’s pacing form through the backlit curtains of the cabin. The shadow stalked from one side of the room to the other, and Spike could hear Angel’s mutterings though he couldn’t quite make out the words. 

He opened the door in time to see Angel turn quickly and pitch a glass tumbler at him. Spike dodged, and the glass shattered against the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw his companion duck back out the door and close it behind him. _Cowardly wanker._

Angel seemed to come to a bit when he realized who exactly he’d thrown the tumbler at. “Spike! Didn’t ask for you, boyo. Get th’fuck outta my house!” 

Oh _goody_ , he was Irish Drunk. At least Spike had a good idea of which of his three “personalities” was currently driving the Angel Train. Spike shrugged indifferently and leaned against the wall, watching Angel pace the room like a drunken tiger. “Some of the lads were under the impression that I should come keep you from doin’ somethin’ like settin’ yourself on fire. Tried to tell them it’d been too long since we’d had a proper bonfire, but you know how they are.” 

Angel barked a laugh, woozily glaring in Spike’s general direction. “Oh, right lad - make a joke! Always a joke for you, innit? If Ol’ Spike wants to go through his unlife actin’ the maggot and drinkin’ like a bloody fish, well that’s just fine! But if Angel decides to take a night off and down a few drinks and break a few necks, well that’s the end of the world there, innit?” 

Spike shifted against the wall, still intent on letting Angel out whatever seemed to be the problem without too much input from him. Didn’t bother him at all what the great git did in his off-hours, but it wasn’t often that Angel allowed himself to get soused for no reason. Whatever was wrong would come out - drunks were fairly reliable that way. 

“I’m not the one gettin’ pissed when I ought to be on the job, am I? Seems like you should be sittin’ on that throne of yours, lettin’ the masses do their bowing and scraping routine for you, eh?” 

“Oh, you’re one to talk! Couldn’t be arsed to show up tonight, could you? Not even to hear tell of a Slayer in our own home sweet home! Too busy makin’ eyes at that blonde potential to remember that you’ve got respons...resp...a job to do too!” He stopped to give Spike a leer. “Must be a fine bit o’ trim to have you so distracted. Always told you there was something ‘bout the young ones, din’t I?”

Spike crossed the room and had Angel against a wall before the older vampire could blink. Spike snarled and violently slammed Angel’s head into the wall, enjoying the crack as the wood behind him splintered. “You’ll leave her out of this if you know what’s good for you, mate.” 

Angel’s features shifted in response, his demon responding to the challenge. He growled fiercely and tried to push Spike off. On a normal day, he might have been successful. The older vampire had brute strength on his side where Spike had always relied on speed. In his current state, however, Spike was more than able to keep Angel contained. 

When he realized that he wouldn’t be able to overpower Spike, Angel tried a different tactic. He sneered at Spike and asked, “Why would I do that? Any girl who can pull your nose outta the memory of Dru’s cold cunt must be a sight. Almost took her for myself, you know? When she was all desperate for someone to step up and help with the brat. Even a blind idiot could see what she’d be willin’ to do as ‘thanks’ for someone rescuing her. But you beat me to the punch, lad; I’ll give you that. Quite an inspired way to get yourself under the lass’s skirts! How long did it take you? The first night? Second maybe? Hell, right bastard that you are, you probably had both of them at the—”

Spike’s violent strike to the side of his head cut Angel off. He sank to the ground, but Spike hauled him back up and delivered a second brutal shot to his jaw before Angel realized what was happening. Angel tasted blood in his mouth and grinned. This was what he’d been hoping for all along. The lad was thick, but his fists provided just the distraction Angel needed from the thoughts in his head. 

“You don’t fucking **touch** them, you hear me?” Spike’s roar barely registered through the haze in Angel’s mind. The blows rained down, and Angel surrendered himself to the pain. 

Spike’s arms were pistons, pulling back and surging forward without thought. Somewhere in his brain, it registered that Angel wasn’t fighting back, but the red rage coursing through his body was too much to ignore. Images flashed through his mind, and he punched harder with each one. Buffy spread out on the bed; tears running down her cheeks as he took her roughly, fangs buried in her neck. Dawn tucked into a corner, whimpering in fright as she tried to cover her eyes. Looking up from Buffy’s broken body to catch Dawn’s brown eyes with his own amber gaze. Beckoning for her to come to the bed and — No! 

Bile rose in the back of his throat as his demon rushed forward with an angry roar. Just the idea of him - anyone - violating his girls like that...man and demon both were both enraged and out for blood.

“No! You sick bastard!” Blood poured from the wounds sprouting on Angel’s face; Spike didn’t even notice when he split his knuckles against the other man’s fangs. Nothing else mattered - just making him pay for putting those images in Spike’s head. “You don’t talk about them like that! You don’t **ever** talk about them like that!” 

Spike wasn’t sure how long he kept up the beating; but when he came back to himself, Angel’s face was a bloody, swollen, broken mess. Spike took several deep, heaving breaths and dropped Angel to the floor. The other man was still conscious and rolled to his back when he realized Spike had let him go. Angel lay coughing and wheezing for several minutes, blood dripping onto the floor with every heavy exhale. 

Spike looked at the door and briefly considered leaving his grandsire where he lay. Would serve him right, really, after the things he'd said. Instead, Spike leaned back against the wall next to Angel and slid down. Now that he’d calmed a bit, Spike had the sneaking suspicion that he’d been used. Angelus wasn’t one to accept a beating passively, - especially from Spike. He’d also become quiet the moment the punches started; Angelus would have kept going, laughing through the pain. He'd always been adept at pushing Spike’s buttons; always knew the best way to raise his hackles and set him off in a rage. Seemed like that’s what he’d done tonight, but Spike couldn’t figure why Angel had wanted to use him for some twisted form of self-flagellation. 

As it turned out, the beating shook Angel out of his drunken stupor. He didn’t bother looking at Spike, just started talking. Through painful breaths, he relayed the story the new Slayer had brought. Spike sat silently as he talked, waiting until Angel finished describing the scene Axel had found at their border to comment. 

“You think Ol’ Nest is ballsy enough to attack us here? Could have been a rogue; it’s happened before.”

“Even you’re not that thick, boy. You know as well as I do that he’d send someone after the Slayer, and he’d want us to know that he knows where she is. More’n likely this was Darla.” Angel took a heavy breath and released it slowly. “Darla was always one for setting the scene. Wasn’t enough to just kill someone to send a message. She’d have wanted to paint us a picture. Sounds like she did.” 

Spike shook his head in disbelief. “So, what’s the message? Give us the Slayer or I kill your folk? She’s likely gonna try to do that anyway, Peaches, and you know it.” 

Angel nodded wordlessly. A few moments passed quietly before he spoke again. His voice was hesitant, suspicious almost. “Tell me again what happened to Dru?”

Spike raised an eyebrow and looked over. “What the fuck does that matter?”

“Humor me, lad. Tell me what happened.” 

Spike shifted uncomfortably; then huffed. “Was hiding out in some shithole in the middle of Seattle. Humans dropping like flies all around us, it seemed. Tried to get her to leave; told her that it’d be better to head south, away from all the cities. Too many scared people with weapons in a city, and Dru wasn’t known to stay away from them even on her sanest of days. But she wouldn’t budge. Kept sayin’ we had to stay, that we had to stay until it was time or some rot. You know Dru - all riddles and no sense most days.” 

Spike swallowed thickly as the memories washed over him. “One morning I went to sleep as normal. Looking back, I should have suspected something. She treated me like one of her sodding dolls - made a show of tucking me in and petting my hair; then she told me to sleep well, for who knew what the night would bring us. Thought she was just in a mood and, quite frankly, was just glad it wasn’t one that involved me having to tie her down or her scratching the hell out of me on a whim. So we slept. When I woke that evening, she wasn’t in bed. When she didn’t answer my call, I figured she’d gone out for a hunt. Opened the door to see if she’d gone outside and almost stepped into her dust.” 

Angel’s brows furrowed - a sight when one of them was split right up the middle from one of Spike’s claws. “So you saw it - her dust? You sure it was hers?” 

“Bloody hell - yes, it was hers. Smelled like her, didn’t it? No other vamps around in that area, so who the fuck else would have dusted themselves right outside our door in the middle of the day? Couldn’t sense her through the sire link after that either.” 

Angel didn’t respond, just kept staring at the floor with that infuriating expression until Spike snapped, “Why are you on about Dru anyway? What’s it got to do with any of this?” 

Angel sighed, rubbing a hand down the back of his neck. “The Slayer said Darla had a partner - a vampire she’d recruited. Described her as dark-haired, British, some kind of seer, and not quite right in the head. Sound familiar?”

“Not possible. I saw the dust.”

“Spike —”

Spike cut him off angrily. “No, bollocks! Don’t care what this dizzy bird thinks she saw, it wasn’t Dru! Couldn’t have been! How would she do that? Why would she do that?” 

“How the hell should I know? Magic? Maybe she bashed you over your thick head like you deserve! Fuck, maybe she sent her blessed pixies after you! But unless you know anyone else meeting that particular description, we have to consider that it’s possible.” 

Spike rose to his feet and began pacing around the room much as Angel had been. “Why would Darla need Dru? She’s Nest’s darling girl; never had any real use for Dru before. Seem to remember her asking you to stake Dru on more than one occasion.” 

Angel snorted disdainfully. “Practical bitch, isn’t she? She was trying to get information from someone, what better way than using Dru’s thrall? Maybe she hoped Dru would have a vision or two that would work in her benefit. Who knows? All I know is that those two together are trouble and people are going to die.” 

Spike stopped and regarded Angel seriously. “You really think they’ll come here.”

Angel nodded and laughed humorlessly. “I do. Gotta say - when that Whistler fellow approached me about starting the camp as a matter of atonement...he might have mentioned this. First, a little girl who everyone thinks is Patient Zero and a potential Slayer; then one of our witches wants to leash the vampiric community with a blood oath I allowed. Now, we’ve got a rogue Slayer in a community of demons, and it looks like both our sires might be on the hunt for her.” 

Spike paused a moment. “Great day to be king, eh?” 

He really should have expected the punch to the head. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Willow? Baby, you awake?” 

Tara lit the candle by the door and looked at the lump on the cot for signs of movement. When no answer came, Tara moved quietly to the cot, carefully avoiding the squeakiest pieces of wood on the floor. As she got closer, she could see that Willow’s eyes were open; red and swollen from crying, but open. 

Tara knelt softly beside Willow’s cot and brushed a hand over her lover’s forehead. “How you feeling?”

Willow’s toneless reply of “Why do you care?” made Tara want to cry. Tara had hoped that a few days of being away from others and having a chance to process everything would be what Willow needed to snap out of the dangerous spiral she’d been caught in. She should have known better, probably. She’d been so hopeful though; Willow had been her partner for so long...when Tara thought about giving up on her or them, it felt like someone had ripped her heart out of her chest. 

She knew that what they’d done was the right choice. Willow was stubborn and self-assured. She wouldn’t have stopped. She’d shown that even the thought of harming Tara wasn’t enough to sway her from her plans. She would have gone through with them and who knew what could have happened. 

Even knowing that, however, Tara refused to give up yet. She’d loved Willow too long, known her too well, to believe that her lover was lost. Tara reminded herself of all the good she’d seen Willow do - with and without magic. As resolved as she was to withhold Willow’s magic for the time being, Tara was equally resolved to do whatever she could to help the other woman heal. 

Tara forced a smile to her lips and said, “I brought you some of Fiona’s famous stew, Will. I think it might even be vegetarian this time!” 

Willow stared blankly at Tara for several long seconds before wordlessly turning away from her on the cot. 

Tara bit her lip sharply to try to keep the tears from escaping onto her cheeks. It wasn’t enough to stop them. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Spike sighed as he pushed the door to his cabin open. It was late; no way Buffy had waited up for him. He’d spent two hours dealing with Angel’s pity party, and another after that settling the other vampires. An unstable Angel spelled trouble for everyone, so he had taken care to assure them that his grandsire hadn’t actually gone round the bend. 

Axel had been the hardest to deal with. Something had obviously happened to the younger vampire out in the woods, but he wasn’t saying what. Instead, he’d paced the length of the small home that several of the members of their larger group shared and cursed Angel under his breath. When he’d tired of that, he’d switched to cursing more loudly. Spike wasn’t one to stand up for Angel most days - any day, really - but after their conversation in the cabin, he had felt...well, mostly he still felt pissed about the git’s manipulating him into a beat-down, but that didn’t mean he’d let any of them be disrespectful to the camp’s Master. When Axel had gotten belligerent and started to threaten to go to Angel’s cabin to get him to “move his lazy, Irish, layabout ass”, Spike had finally put him in his place. 

The major immediate crisis finally averted, Spike had hightailed his way out of camp before something else could explode. The few minutes it had taken him to get home had been spent wondering if Buffy had waited for him. Sure, he was hungry, but more than that, he was curious if she’d actually go through with letting him bite her again. When she’d mentioned being ready to ‘keep up her end’ again, he’d found it a bit odd that his first inclination had been to protest that she needed more time to heal. He figured he’d better watch it before he became completely pussy-whipped without even sampling the pussy in question. 

And then there was their conversation earlier to consider! Bloody hell, the chit was a mess of mixed signals! First she practically shoved her neck in his mouth; then the next thing he knew, she was angry at him for thinking he used her to get knock-off Slayer blood! At least she’d listened to what he’d had to say - thank heaven for small mercies. He worried, though, that his abrupt exit from the cabin would give her too much time to think. Nothing good ever happened when a bird had too much time to think. 

The scene that welcomed him home was surprising, to say the least. He’d thought that she’d either wait up for him or, more likely, just go to bed. The sight of her curled up in one of the chairs, framed by soft light from the fireplace, an open book loosely held in one of her hands as she slept peacefully was so unexpected that for a moment, he couldn’t move. 

Unbidden, the part of him that was still shy, bookish William imagined what it might have been like if he’d known a girl like her when he was alive. Would someone as brave and innocent as Buffy have given him the time of day? Would he have come home at night to find a sweet wife like her waiting for him like this? Would she have read to him, allowing him to bask at her feet, her fingers running lovingly through his curls? Would she have listened to his awful poetry and seen the intent behind the poorly chosen words? Something in him ached as long-dead wishes thrummed like a pulse, each beat reminding him of how much living could hurt. 

Before he even knew he was moving, Spike found himself in front of her. He knelt softly next to the chair, taking in the shades and contours of the firelight on her face. Shadows of the flames danced along her skin, inviting him to trace their paths with his fingers. A thick strand of hair had fallen across her cheek, and Spike couldn’t resist the urge to smooth it back. 

Buffy moaned quietly in her sleep and seemed to lean into his touch like a cat. He trailed a finger down her cheek, marveling at its soft warmth. God, she was always so bloody warm! He smiled gently at her sleeping form and, perhaps a bit lost in William’s dreams, leaned in to brush a soft kiss across her lips. 

Buffy had been having a good dream — no, a _very_ good dream. A wonderful dream. She was lying in a hammock on a beach somewhere, the sun shining down and warming her skin. Waves lapped playfully at the shore, and the breeze danced through the palm fronds. Buffy stretched in the dappled sunlight and smiled. If there was a heaven, this had to be it; nothing but her, her hammock, and a conveniently placed and perfectly mixed coconut drink - really, this dream thing was great. 

Suddenly, she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t sure _how_ she knew that because there wasn’t anyone in sight when she cracked an eye open, but she knew. Her body tingled pleasantly and somehow she took that to mean that someone was with her. Just as she was about to ignore the feeling and get back to her oh-so-important nap, Spike decided to join her. Suddenly he was lying next to her in the hammock, considerately dressed in nothing but a well-placed fig leaf...well, banana leaf, but that might just be her dream being all with the tropical setting. 

He smiled at her, his eyes as blue as the sky above them, and threaded one of his hands into her hair. She felt him against her own bare skin - wait, hadn’t she been wearing a bathing suit? - and shivered in anticipation. He trailed his other hand up and down her body teasingly, carefully avoiding all the really interesting parts that wanted his attention. This! This is what she wanted and needed and _oh God_ , if he didn’t kiss her right then, she might burst into flames.

Helpfully, he pressed his lips to hers, and Buffy couldn’t stop the moan from escaping her throat. He felt so good against her; he always felt so good. Nothing in her entire life compared to the fire that lit her body up when Spike touched her, kissed her. She knew she’d been anxious about going farther before, but the timing seemed so perfect! Here they were in some sort of Garden of Eden paradise and appropriately dressed to play the part of Adam and Eve! Wasn’t there something in there about “Go forth and multiply”? Well, okay, so his being undead might throw a kink in that plan, but they could certainly practice! Practice was good! Practice made perfect, so her mother had said when she was younger and didn’t want to practice her ice skating drills. Although...this seemed pretty perfect by itself. 

Somewhere between the time he began his attempt at death-by-smoochies and the time that she decided to reach for his banana leaf, the dream began to fade. Or at least, parts of it. The lovely beach, the warm sun, and the sounds of the waves all slowly dissolved like sand running through fingers, but the insistent movement of Spike’s lips against her own stayed constant. By the time she realized that she was waking up, Buffy also registered the feel of his hand cupping her cheek; a thumb lazily brushed up and down against her skin. The whole effect made her skin tingly — all in all, Buffy could think of worse ways to be woken up. 

A few moments of sweet, tingly kisses later, Spike pulled away far enough to meet her eyes. Buffy fought the urge to pout like Dawn — she’d been enjoying herself! When Spike smirked at her, Buffy figured she hadn’t been as good at holding in the pout as she’d hoped. 

“Evenin’, luv. Had a nice nap?” 

Buffy smiled lazily and nodded. “The nicest. The wake-up was kind of okay, too!”

Spike arched an eyebrow playfully. “Just okay, was it? Must be losing my touch.”

It might have been the fact that she was still half-asleep, but Buffy suddenly felt bold. Playful. Maybe also a touch residually horny from the dream. “We-ell, I dunno. I was asleep for most of it. I might need another demonstration to really give it a fair score.” 

In the low firelight, Buffy could almost swear his eyes sparkled. He leaned back in slowly until he was a hair's breadth away from her lips. When he spoke, the hoarseness of his voice sent shivers down her spine that settled as heat low in her belly. “You sure, pet? Want to give you a thorough...demonstration. Just so it’s fair and all.” 

Buffy got the feeling that he was referring to more than kissing, and the familiar pang of anxiety made its way through her body. Just having him this close made her head spin, but the tiny voice of reason that had been shoved to the back of her brain was just loud enough to be annoying. She wasn’t ready for...everything. She wasn’t. She knew that she wasn’t, and she knew that Spike wouldn’t force it if she said no. But-

“You...you said that sometimes people who are bitten...you said they do things to distract themselves from the pain, like drinking or drugs or…” she trailed off and felt the blush rising in her cheeks. 

Thankfully, Spike filled in for her, his lips so close to hers that she could almost taste him. “Or fucking?” 

Without warning, he slipped his tongue out to flick against her lower lip, and Buffy couldn’t stop a tiny gasp from escaping. Her eyes slid closed and she nodded; her voice trembled when she responded, “Yeah, that. I’m not...I still don’t think we should...but we wouldn’t have to do...everything tonight, would we? You could still...distract me?” 

Spike pulled back just far enough to look her in the eyes again. The heat she saw in his gaze sent her heart racing. He seemed to be looking for something in her eyes, and Buffy found herself hoping that he found it - and quickly. 

Her remaining anxiety insisted that she stop; that this wasn’t something she’d planned to do. And she really hadn’t - she’d planned to wait for him to return so she could do what she’d promised and let him feed again. There had been no intention of...getting distracted outside of her dreams. But he wanted her — she knew he did. He’d said so. 

_Now I just bloody well want you, don’t I?_

Would it be so bad to give in? Would it be so bad to let him show her that letting someone in, even a little bit...didn’t have to hurt?

Spike must have found whatever it was he was looking for because he nodded and whispered gruffly, “Yeah, luv. I can do that.” 

That was the end of negotiations. The instant he captured her lips again, Buffy surrendered. No dotted line, no signing her firstborn away; just trusting that he understood what she wanted. 

He certainly seemed to - the soft, gentle kisses he’d woken her with disappeared and were quickly replaced by insistent, demanding kisses. The nips of his teeth on her lip were just hard enough to sting, but the slight pain sent wave after wave of arousal through her body. 

The kisses didn’t last nearly as long as Buffy wanted - then again, she’d have been content to have Spike Kisses until her lips fell off, especially if he kept making those little rumbly growls that vibrated against her skin. But apparently he had other plans, because one minute she was in smoochy heaven and the next he’d torn those fabulous lips away. Buffy almost pouted for a moment, but the heated look he gave her let her know that they were far from done. 

“Gonna do this right, pet. C’mere and lose the top.” If Buffy thought about being embarrassed at the idea of being topless in front of him, his expression put those thoughts right out of her head. Spike looked at her like she was a supermodel, a five-course dinner, and dessert all rolled into one. What was a girl supposed to do? Well, lose her top, probably. 

Buffy hesitated for just a moment; somehow, the knowledge that she was crossing one of those “growing up” thresholds everyone talked about made her want to go slowly. Savor it. She’d never again be able to say that she’d never taken her shirt off so a guy could look at her boobs; and somewhere in her still teenage Buffy brain, that mattered. It didn’t matter that Spike was a vampire; didn’t matter that they were in a cabin at the ass-end of Oregon at the end of the world. It mattered that she was giving him something of herself...a lot of somethings really. Not everything, but more than she thought she’d want to give to anyone. 

Buffy slowly pulled her tee over her head, alternating between wanting to look straight at Spike and anywhere but him. She laid it carefully on the seat next to her before finally forcing herself to meet his eyes again. She was struck by how...hungry he looked; how quickly that look sent bolts of desire between her legs and, oddly enough, her nipples. She hadn’t known that just a look could cause them to tighten so pleasantly, and suddenly, all she wanted was for him to touch her. 

Spike reached a hand out and trailed a finger down her collarbone, tracing the edges of her bra along the tops of her breasts. Buffy sighed softly and leaned closer. 

“Look at you, then. Perfect little handfuls just waiting...” His voice was low and rough, and the knowledge that she’d caused it to sound like that was enough to make a girl preen a bit. 

Spike stretched his arm around her for a moment and quickly unhooked the clasp of her bra. The first threshold was crossed- Buffy Summers was now a proud member of the Flashed My Boobs Club. 

Buffy had touched herself before, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Spike’s rough fingers sliding across her nipples. He traced around the tips before palming her breast and squeezing lightly. Buffy had never actually felt herself get wet before and marveled at the sensation of the slick, wet heat gathering at her core. Spike must have noticed too; he took a deep breath, and a wide grin spread on his face. “Like that, do you? Like my hands on you?” He emphasized his words with another squeeze, this one a little harder.

Buffy moaned and nodded, biting down on her lower lip to keep from crying out when he pinched one of her nipples. Spike zeroed in on her lip and leaned forward to catch it between his own teeth. When he bit down just hard enough to hurt a bit and pinched her nipple again, Buffy gasped sharply and pushed herself harder into his hand. 

Turnabout was fair play, she decided, so when he released her lip, she pulled his in to give it a sharp bite. Spike let out a deep growl, and before Buffy knew it, she was off the chair and seated firmly in his lap. 

When he pulled his mouth away from her, Spike was breathing heavily. Buffy loved that in a way that she couldn’t really describe. For a creature that didn’t actually need to breathe to be driven to deep, heaving breaths on account of her...it was the kind of power a girl could get drunk on. 

“Careful, little girl! Wanna do right by you, but you start doin’ things like that and I’ll give you exactly what you’re asking for.” He thrust up against her pussy sharply for emphasis; the hardness of his cock made her jeans rub against her clit in a maddeningly delicious way. More! More of that now! 

When she didn’t respond with anything except a moan, he went back to caressing her breasts and plucking at her nipples. He ground himself against her pussy again, and Buffy had to stop herself from yanking his pants off right then and there and crossing a whole different threshold. The friction he caused set her body aflame; she felt heavy and swollen, and oh so desperate for more. Every single part of her cried out for more. 

Spike’s hands felt so good on her breasts that she hadn’t even considered that there was more he could do. One minute he was nibbling and licking at her neck while he squeezed and fondled her; the next minute, her world tilted when his mouth covered one of her nipples and sucked in sharply. Lighting flashed all through her body, and when he scraped his teeth against the sensitive tips, Buffy thought she might actually cry. 

She barely registered when he pulled away to grasp at her hip and pull her more forcefully against him. His words fanned flames that she hadn’t thought could get any higher. “Oh, luv, the sounds you make! The way you move with me. Gonna make it so good for you, Baby. Gonna make it so all you feel is good.” 

Buffy’s mind was quickly spinning out of control; her ability to respond in anything but moans and sighs and gasps quickly fading. She wanted to say things like, ‘Please, God, yes!’ and ‘Touch me more’ and ‘I swear to God, if you stop I will shove a stake so far up your ass you’ll be tasting wood for a month’. What actually came out of her mouth was a breathy, desperate “Spike, please…”

“Please what, precious? What do you need?” That he continued to tease her nipples with his teeth between questions did not help Buffy’s ability to make actual words. 

“More. More touching now!” 

Her heart, already pounding away like a drum, skipped several beats when one of his hands left her breast and moved down the sensitive skin of her belly towards her jeans. 

_Oh God...ohgodohgodohgod!_ Cold skin shouldn’t burn that way. Somewhere in her mind, she knew he had no body heat of his own, but whether he’d stolen hers or the fire had warmed him; his fingers scorched her like a flame as they slipped beneath her waistband. 

She thought he might ease her into this new under-the-pants touching thing, but Spike seemed to be a man on a mission. Buffy’s eyes widened at the feel of his fingers sliding underneath her panties and right between her legs. If she’d thought before that the rub of her jeans against her clit was enough to make her scream, the firm touch of his fingers on her clit as he slid his hand down was enough to make her howl. She bucked against his hand with a hoarse cry, desperate to urge him down to where she really needed him. She’d never known how empty her body was before. Never known how badly she could need to be filled. His fingers a few inches away from her opening felt like chaining up a starving man at a Thanksgiving feast. 

“Christ, Buffy — so bloody wet for me. So fucking hot — goin’ to burn me to ashes, luv!” He sounded as desperate as she felt; like there couldn’t be anything he wanted more than her at that moment. 

“Spike, please!” Her words came out in a sob; she thought he might tease her more; she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. 

Spike cursed and moaned as he moved her without warning, pushing her off of his lap only to turn her around and pull her tight against his chest. The movement caused the fingers in her pants to slide back and forth across her clit, sending intense bursts of pleasure from her pussy all the way through her body. Once he’d situated her against him, he started to grind his erection against her ass. Buffy couldn’t resist pushing back, still trying to nudge his fingers inside before she lost her mind. 

He took pity on her and slid one finger inside as he pressed the heel of his hand firmly against her clit. Buffy arched and cried out for a moment before Spike slapped his other hand over her mouth. 

“Got to be quiet, sweet. Want to listen to you fall apart - you sound so lovely - but we can’t wake the Bit, remember? Now be a good girl or I’ll have to stop, yeah?” 

Buffy nodded frantically, tears of frustration pricking at the sides of her eyes. He started slowly - agonizingly slowly - sliding his finger in and out of her, pressing against her clit every time he pushed back in. Buffy couldn’t help but move with him, rolling her hips forward to meet his hand, then back to push against his cock. Some still functioning part of her brain observed that now she really got the meaning of being caught between a rock and a hard place, and she decided that it wasn’t nearly as awful as it sounded. 

She moaned into his hand when he added a second finger, bucking harder to try to force him deeper. Had to have him deeper. Had to have all of him as far in her as he could go until she never felt empty again. The already out of control wildfire spreading across her body was quickly becoming an inferno. She knew she’d come soon...had to come soon before her brain and body melted completely. 

Spike seemed to sense how close she was and began to thrust against her harder, making sure that every push back into her pussy was accompanied by a firm rub against her clit. As Buffy began to spiral out of control, he leaned close to whisper into her ear. 

“Almost there, luv! I can feel it - feel that brilliant cunt squeezing me. Ooooh yes! That’s it! Give me your wrist, luv! Now!” 

Buffy almost asked him why he wanted her wrist - that was in no way a body part that needed his attention right now; slowly, through the haze of her desire, she remembered why they’d started this. He was going to bite her again. Said he’d make it not hurt so much. She believed him - nothing could possibly hurt right now, even if she was half convinced her body was actually burning up. 

She quickly raised her wrist to his lips and felt his face shift. When he added a third finger and gave a few more hard, deep thrusts into her, Buffy felt her body shatter completely. A tidalwave of heat and intense, nearly painful relief surged through her entire body as her entire world focused in on the feeling of his fangs slicing into her wrist. It still hurt, burned even; but when the rest of her body was already on fire, the burn only added to the inferno already consuming her. 

By the time Buffy came back to herself and could actually use her brain again, Spike had already released her wrist and was favoring it with long, firm licks to help stop the bleeding. The only sounds Buffy could hear were the thumping of her heart and the deep, trembling breaths that she couldn’t slow. 

Spike slowly withdrew his hand, and Buffy barely registered that he’d brought it to his lips and licked it clean. That image coupled with the deep, satisfied moan that he let out sent a heated tingle through her otherwise exhausted body. 

When her breathing finally slowed, Buffy allowed herself to lean back against Spike’s chest. The fire was dying, and without the heat of desire coursing through her, Buffy was getting cold. Even knowing that he didn’t have body heat to give her, she snuggled against him as though he were her own personal, fangy blanket. 

Spike gave her wrist one last kiss before reaching up to twine their fingers together. Their hands rested against her belly, and it occurred to Buffy that as intense as what he’d done to her was...this was almost just as nice. They sat quietly together for a few minutes before Spike moved to retrieve her shirt from the chair. 

“Here, luv. Don’t want you catching cold now.” His voice was soft and gentle, and Buffy couldn’t help the smile spreading on her face. 

“Thank you. I...for everything, Spike. Just...thank you. I didn’t know...it was really nice.” Despite the fact that he’d just brought her off on his living room floor, Buffy felt her face flush at the idea of thanking someone for an orgasm. She tugged her shirt on and found herself feeling awkward. 

As usual, though, Spike seemed to understand what she was trying to say. “It was brilliant, luv. Christ, the way you…” He drifted off for a moment, a sort of awe-filled look in his eyes. He swallowed thickly before continuing. “You were brilliant.” 

Buffy looked away shyly. She wasn’t sure what she could have been “brilliant” at. He’d done all the work! But if he thought so, who was she to argue? Suddenly a thought occurred to her, and her face flamed despite what they’d just done. “You...you didn’t get to - you know.” 

Spike let out a low laugh and leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. He nudged her nose with his and said, “Don’t worry about me. A good wank and I’ll be right as rain. There’s always next time, yeah?”

She nodded, but Buffy wasn’t sure what to say next. What did people do in these situations? All she really knew was that she felt better than she had in years...and she was tired. Suddenly so very tired. As if her body suddenly realized it, she yawned. Spike smiled and stood, offering a hand to pull her up. 

“Off to bed with you, then! ‘S been a long night, and the Bit will be up at the ass crack of dawn if memory serves.”

Buffy smiled and nodded; she started to walk away but turned back. Before she could really consider what she was doing, she pulled his face down to hers for a sweet, lingering kiss. 

“G’night, Spike.” Before he could answer, she crossed the floor and slipped quietly into her room. 

Spike listened to the sounds of her readying for bed; once she’d climbed into bed and settled in, he let out a deep sigh and walked into his own room for what promised to be an incredible, if a bit unsatisfying, wank. 


	20.  Ranunculus asiaticus (Persian Buttercup)

**_Ranunculus asiaticus_** **(Persian Buttercup** ** _)_**

Faith stalked from one side of the room to the other, muttering under her breath. Anya watched from her spot on her bed and counted how many times the Slayer scuffed the bottom of her boots against the floor in any given minute. There wasn’t really anything better to do. Since their meeting with Angel and the community leaders, they’d been waiting. Wes had said that they wouldn’t have to wait long; that they’d find a more permanent place for them soon. 

They’d both slept fitfully that night - half expecting an angry mob of demons to march through their door before morning. Anya knew for a fact that Faith had slept with her back to the wall and a stake under her pillow. Not that Faith had verbalized any anxiety — oh no! To hear her tell it, she was completely ‘five by five’ as she liked to say. Anya knew better. She was far more observant than her companion gave her credit for, and she knew that behind all the bluster and irreverence, Faith was scared. The Slayer, the girl demons feared like no other, was scared. 

Anya flip-flopped on what exactly she thought it was that Faith feared. Sometimes, she thought it was the idea that their captors might come for them. Anya understood that fear. While she hadn’t been important enough to warrant Darla’s attention as often as Faith, Anya had experienced her share of pain and suffering at the vampire’s claws. It was perfectly understandable to be afraid of pain. Unless of course, you got off on it, — and honestly, it wouldn’t surprise her if Faith had a thing for pain what with the whole violence and super strength thing — but it was fairly rare to meet someone who truly found sexual pleasure in actual torture. Someone human, at least. 

The other thing that Anya considered as the source of the Slayer’s fear was their current location. Slayers were solitary as a general rule, and Faith was no exception. They’d spent a great deal of time in the damp dungeon recounting personal histories as a way to stay sane. Anya knew that Faith had grown up in the foster care system in a string of abusive homes before being snatched up by the Council of Watchers for training as a potential. Faith had excelled at the physical side of her training but had gone through three Watchers in as many years. The first died in a freak accident, the second — finding it impossible to build a relationship with the sullen, newly called Slayer — had asked to be reassigned, and the third had died on the way to a meeting of the Watchers shortly after the plague had begun to spread. 

Needless to say, Faith’s track record when it came to relationships was worrisome. Anya liked her fine, but she supposed that was because she preferred blunt truth to pretty lies, and Faith could always be counted on to tell the truth. Maybe that was why it bothered her that Faith continued to insist that nothing was wrong. It was clearly a lie; one look at the girl’s clenched fists and deep scowl was enough to tell. 

“I would be much less concerned by your pacing if you would tell me what’s wrong, you know.” Anya stared indifferently at her nails, but still caught the glare from the other side of the room. 

“I told you, Ahn. For the thousandth friggin’ time, there’s nothing wrong!” She proved her statement by flopping on the bed next to Anya. “See? No pacin’. Just wicked bored! I need to get out of this goddamned room before I go crazy!” 

“You could always masturbate. An orgasm would relax your muscles and calm your nerves.” 

Faith looked bemused at the suggestion and gave Anya a saucy grin. “Maybe later, Ahn. Know you’re just dyin’ to see my smokin’ bod again and all, but think I’ll have to pass for now.” 

Anya shrugged indifferently. “I enjoy orgasms with women, but you are my friend, not my lover. Besides, if I wanted shared orgasms, there are others here I would ask.” 

Faith raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Oh yeah, I bet. Harris, right? Guess the pirate roleplay could be fun if you’re into the whole damsel in distress thing.” 

“I do enjoy roleplay, but I think I would much prefer him to play the strapping lumberjack or something like that. He has nice arms.” Anya smiled at the thought of Xander Harris in an open plaid shirt with an ax. Men with big weapons just did it for her! 

“Can’t say as I’ve noticed.” Faith’s tone was bored, but Anya had noticed that she tended to do that when a topic strayed too close to something uncomfortable. When Faith took a sip of water from the cup by her bed instead of elaborating, Anya continued. 

“I’m glad — less competition for me! There are any number of men in camp who could provide you orgasms, though. Even some non-humans if you liked. There’s that tall vampire with the long black hair. He looks old enough to be experienced.”

Faith sputtered inelegantly, water spraying onto the floor. She glared and protested, “Anya, I’m no fang-banger! Slayer, remember? I come, I see, I slay; not I come, I see, I fuck.” 

Anya thought that was narrow-minded of her, but she had found most humans to be that way over the years. They never opened themselves up to the possibilities that other species offered. Vampires, for example, could be excellent lovers. Even their bite could be pleasurable if used at the right time in the right situation. Humans could be such prudes.

She shrugged again. “Suit yourself. What about that Watcher guy, Wes? He’s nicely shaped. Bit uptight, maybe, but those types are always fun to...uncork.”

Anya could have sworn that Faith’s cheeks tinged pink for a moment, but the Slayer quickly rose to her feet and began pacing again. When she looked back at Anya, her face was fixed in a cold expression and she snarled, “Wouldn’t touch a Watcher with a 10-foot pole if they were the last pricks on Earth. What did those assholes ever do for me anyway, huh? Now cut it out, Ahn, I’m tired of talkin’ ‘bout this!”

Anya sighed. Back to watching her roommate pace. Oh goody. _I wonder if Xander would enjoy playing ‘Delivery Boy and Lonely Housewife’?_

A knock at their door broke Anya out of her fantasies; the fact that it was Xander at the door made her wonder if the powers were handing out free wishes. _As long as you’re taking requests, how about some chocolate and my amulet back?_ She thought wryly. 

Xander gave them a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes and said, “Hey, ladies! Just popped by to give you an update on your living situation.”

Faith’s eyes narrowed, but she stayed quiet. Anya noticed that Xander wouldn’t quite meet Faith’s eyes. 

He continued, “The good news is, we have space for you in camp. We have tents in the human quarter available right now, and I’m hoping we’ll be done with some of the new cabins in the next month so that you could move in there with some of the other singles.”

“And the bad news?” Faith asked. 

Xander sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “The demon community at large still ain’t happy with you being here. They’re scared for their families. With what went down with Willow a few days back...well, anyway. They’re not crazy about having “The Slayer” with the capital S so close to their homes and families. So…” He trailed off. 

“So...so what?” Faith snarled. 

Xander finally met her eyes; his expression was solemn. “So for now, you’re kind of on a probation of sorts. You stay to the human side unless you’re doing a job. You need to trade or leave the area for any reason, have someone with you at all times.”

“What the...why the fuck do I need a babysitter? Are they plannin’ on attackin’ me or something?” Faith asked incredulously. 

Xander shook his head slowly. “No...but that’s what they’re afraid **you’re** going to do. The leaders feel like you’re less likely to start with the slaying and wiping out half the neighborhood if someone’s with you.”

Anya nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. The Slayer operates alone, so having another person would be a clear form of accountability to the demon community.”

Faith whipped around. “Really? This makes sense to you?”

Anya frowned and replied, “Of course. To many of these demons, you’re the story they tell to scare their children into behaving. You’re the only thing many of them have to fear. It’d be like having the Boogeyman walk around a human settlement. Or a rabid rabbit.” 

Faith and Xander looked at her, gobsmacked.

Xander shook his head and looked back at Faith. “Look, this isn’t forever. It’s probably not even for long. Folks are just really riled up right now when all the craziness of the past few weeks, and this was just one more thing for people to be afraid of. Just go with it until everyone calms down and you’ll be fine. They don’t care who the person is who’s with you. It can be Anya, me, Wes, or anybody you want. Just think of this as keeping you safe too. The last thing you need is someone to accuse you of something because you’re the Slayer, right?”

Faith stayed silent, still eyeing him suspiciously; so Anya elbowed her pointedly. “That is exactly what we don’t need! Some cocky Brachen or fledgling vampire might think it’d be fun to antagonize you and then blame you when they get hurt. This way you have a witness to your innocence.” 

Xander nodded in agreement and said, “She’s right. You have as much of a right to be here as anyone as long as you’re following the rules. And this whole mess really isn’t about you - there was a whole bunch of crap that went down before you even got here. You’re just kinda...the last straw for some folks, y’know? The Big Bad Wolf to their straw house. The fly in their soup after a day of running into doors. The—”

Faith cut him off. “Jesus, Harris, I got it! I am the shit on their shoes! Nobody wants me here! I hear ya loud and clear, so you can can it now!” She turned away and flopped back on her bed, pointedly ignoring the other two in the room.

Anya frowned and remarked seriously. “That’s not true. I want you here.” 

Faith stiffened and was quiet for a moment. Her voice was slightly hoarse when she said quietly, “Thanks, Ahn.” 

Xander shuffled uncomfortably at Faith’s unexpected outburst. He looked at Anya for guidance on the surly Slayer, but she just shrugged. As far as she was concerned, this was just how Faith was sometimes. She’d get over it. Usually, she just needed some time to process and she’d be fine. 

With that in mind, she looked at Xander and smiled. “I’d like something to eat. Escort me to the kitchen, please!”

Anya preened inwardly when Xander’s ears tinged pink and he blinked his good eye several times before stammering, “Yeah — good. I’d be glad to, I mean. I’ve got a little while before I need to be anywhere.” 

Anya didn’t wait for him to offer his arm; she just took it. The pink on his ears spread to his cheeks, but Xander just smiled. He looked quickly back at Faith and said, “I think Wes is headed this way pretty soon. Said he had some Slayer stuff to talk to you about. Y’know, just in case you wanted a nap or something.” 

Faith didn’t respond, just raised her hand in a mock salute. Anya shook her head at her friend and pulled Xander towards the door. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Willow? Come on, sweetie, you need to get up now. You’ve been in bed all day.” Tara shook her lover firmly.

“Go away!” Willow pointedly remained faced away from her. 

Tara huffed in annoyance and shook Willow again. She’d had a lot of time to think last night as she’d tossed and turned, and Tara had decided that if there were any hope of Willow making a change and getting better, she couldn’t be allowed to wallow in bed all day. 

Willow tried to shrug her off again, but Tara was determined. She gripped Willow’s arm and forced her to roll onto her back. Normally, Tara probably wouldn’t have been able to do that, but Willow’s days of eating a little and sleeping a lot were catching up with her. Willow tried to look away from Tara for a brief moment before meeting her gaze with an icy expression. 

Willow snapped, “What do you want? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

Tara’s expression softened, trying to let the other woman see just how much she was hurting too. “I want to help you, Will. I love you, and I hate seeing you like this.” 

Willow rolled her eyes. “Sure you do. Because lots of people who love someone effectively cripple them when they make a mistake!” 

She did this a lot; Tara had learned long ago that when Willow felt threatened, she tended to shift the blame on everyone else. They’d spoken about it over their years together, but this was the first time it had ever felt so...cold. Personal. Cruel. 

But that didn’t make her right. “Willow, you were going to hurt people. If you want to go down the analogy road, then how about this one? When someone with a gun says they plan to hurt someone, you don’t just leave them with the gun!” 

Willow sat up sharply, her eyes snapping in her anger. She yelled, “For the last time, I wasn’t going to hurt **anyone**! I was fixing things!"

Tara wasn’t a yeller. She could count the number of times she’d yelled in her life on her hands; and while she was tempted to yell at Willow in the moment, she knew that it wouldn’t make the other woman hear her. Instead, she lowered her voice almost to a whisper. 

“You hurt **me** , Will. I love you, and I asked you to stop and listen to me...and you hurt me. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Willow stopped short; her expression of rage melting into one of confusion. She shook her head, her voice suddenly hoarse when she said, “I didn’t...I never meant to...you just wouldn’t listen to me, Tara. I kept trying to explain how the spell would help and you acted like I was trying to kill people.” She paused; then looked up at Tara with eyes brimming with tears. “Why didn’t you trust me?” 

Tara knew that the tears could be manipulation. She knew that Willow could just be going for sympathy. But she still had faith...she had to have faith that Willow could still be reached. She knelt softly beside the cot and drew Willow into an embrace. “It’s not that I didn’t trust your ability, Willow. I have absolute faith that you could have done what you said. But what we can do and what we should do are not always the same thing. You’ve studied magic long enough to know that. Did you even stop to think about what could happen if - goddess forbid - something went wrong, though? If people found out? If I found out?” 

Willow looked away, seemingly ashamed. A tear escaped down her cheek. “It wasn’t rape, Tara. I was helping. I was just trying to help.” 

Tara smoothed a loose strand of hair away from Willow’s forehead and looked at her seriously. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself of that? How would you feel if...well, how does it feel to not have your magic now? Like someone’s taken your choice, right? At least this isn’t permanent. You would have permanently changed people’s memories at best. At worst...well...you know what could have happened if it went wrong.” 

Stubborn to the end, Willow protested, “It wouldn’t have gone wrong! I knew what I was doing!” 

“I bet you thought the same thing with the vampire’s oath, didn’t you? That no one would know because you’d thought of everything. You can’t think of it all, Willow! It’s magic! There’s always that little bit of uncertainty, and you have to prepare for that! And more than that, you have to remember that you’re casting a spell on people! That requires consent!” 

“They wouldn’t...they didn’t need to know. I was going to make it like it never happened!”

Tara persisted; she had to be getting through — she just had to! “For who, Willow? For them...or for you? People would deal. They would get over it or they wouldn’t. They would forgive or they wouldn’t. That’s just how people are. You can’t ‘fix’ people when you don’t like their reactions, Baby. If you do that, then they aren’t people anymore — they’re your Barbies!” 

Willow was silent for a long time; then, out of nowhere, she broke down into desperate, anguished sobs. Tara held her tighter, tears of pain and hope falling silently down her own cheeks. 

This had to work. Tara didn’t know what she’d do if it didn’t. If it...if she wasn’t enough to bring Willow back. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

A knock sounded at the door, jarring Faith out of her dream. Well, nightmare, really, but who was counting? Faith jammed her pillow over her head, hoping that whoever was at the door would take a hint and take a hike. 

Wes’s voice came through the door despite Faith’s best efforts to deafen herself. “Faith? Are you there? I need to speak with you.” 

Faith wondered if shouting “Nobody’s home!” would make him go away. Probably not! In her experience, Watchers were the best at doing the exact opposite of what you wanted them to do. So she stayed silent. 

He only gave it ten seconds or so before calling again and knocking louder. “Ms. Lehane, I know you’re in there. I passed Anya and Xander Harris on the way here. Please let me in before I’m forced to do something as drastic as breaking the door down.” 

Did Watchers do drastic? Was that something they stuck in their brains in Watcher Robot School? Maybe, but drastic to a Watcher was probably something like going out without a tie or something. Faith didn’t think she’d ever heard her previous tight-assed “guides” threaten anything as violent as breaking down a door. 

Some part of her had been trained too well. She rolled out of bed with a huff and stomped to the door. She threw open the door, glared venomously at Wes, and stomped right back to bed. 

Just as she let her body go limp to fall into bed, a hand grabbed the back of her shirt and yanked her up. Faith let out a yelp as she scrambled to get her feet back under her. 

“What the hell, man? What is wrong with you?” Faith yanked herself out of Wes’s grasp; then spun so that her face was only inches from his. Her voice was low and hard. “Only warning I’ll give you, Hugh. I try not to beat up humans, but if you touch me again, I might forget that.” 

Wes met Faith’s hot anger with a calm, almost bored expression. “I’m not afraid of you, Faith. And I’m not here to hurt you either. I won’t, however, allow you to wallow away in bed when there’s work that needs doing. You’re the Slayer; act like it!”

He knew he was baiting her. That was the point. He could work with anger, but a complacent Slayer helped no one. She gave him exactly what he’d hoped for when she hissed, “Who the fuck do you think you are? I don’t know you. I don’t trust you, and I sure as hell won’t obey you!”

Wes gave her a wry smile. “Yes, I rather expect that you won’t. In fact, I imagine that “obey” is a word you find to be anathema.”

Faith scrunched up her nose. “Anatha-wha?”

“It means that I don’t think obedient is likely a word anyone would use to describe you. So I don’t expect you to obey me. I do hope, though, that you will come to trust me. I’m on your side, Faith.” 

The fire in her eyes faded a bit, but Faith refused to be the first to back away. “And why is that? Because you were a Watcher? Look around, man, the Council’s gone! The Watchers are gone! Hell, the only reason I’m not gone is because a fucking vampire thought I’d be more fun to torture than kill!” 

Wes risked touching her again, raising a hand slowly to rest on Faith’s shoulder. “No, you’re not gone because you’re strong. A normal person could not endure what you’ve endured for years without, at very least, losing their mind. You have been through the literal end of the world and you are still here. And yes, the Council is gone. Your natural allies are gone; but you aren’t alone. Or, at least, you don’t have to be. It seems you’ve made an unlikely ally in Anya. You’ve got me; for all that my presence is worth. It may not be much, but you are **not** alone.” 

Faith looked away, tears pricking her eyes. She felt her anger rise again; this time at herself. Pretty words shouldn’t have such a big effect on her. Wes’s hand felt heavy on her shoulder, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to shrug him off or lean closer. It had been so long since she’d had physical contact that wasn’t intended to hurt or kill her. 

Pride was a funny thing, though. As desperate as she was for the comfort and support he was offering, she couldn’t let him know. It had been beaten into her since she’d been identified as a potential - to be the Slayer was to be alone. The Slayer didn’t get friends, didn’t get lovers, and didn’t get connections outside of her Watcher. Despite her irreverence and seeming inability to follow any rules, Faith had learned that particular lesson well. 

Wes wasn’t sure how to take Faith’s silence. She hadn’t shrugged him off, but she was plainly uncomfortable with his words and his touch. Something inside of him raged against the institution that had given him his purpose in life. There were many good, vital parts of a Slayer’s training, but he’d always wondered about the near isolation that they imposed on the young women. Humans weren’t built to be alone...not without becoming like stone. Granted, most Slayers didn’t live long enough to make that transition, but the ones that did...Wes had met one or two of them in his time with the Council, and they looked less human every day. He wanted to save Faith from that fate. She was the Chosen One. He couldn’t save her from that. He could, though, make it so she retained her humanity and lived to a ripe old age. He wanted to help her live. 

Wes was not an impulsive man; he never had been. It was one of the things that had made him a shoe-in as a Watcher. So he wasn’t sure who he surprised more when he suddenly closed the distance between Faith and himself and brushed a light kiss against her lips. 

His eyes widened when Faith jerked back, confusion written all over her face. “I’m — oh God, I’m so sorry, Faith! I didn’t mean — that is to say, I shouldn’t have—”

Faith pursed her lips, embarrassed at his response. No, he shouldn’t have kissed her, and part of her was angry that he had. But it had felt nice and quieted her mind for a split second; and — unlike Wes — Faith had no problem at all being impulsive. She cut him off mid-stutter with a hard kiss. 

Wes tried to pull back and protest, but Faith grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him back to her mouth. It only took a few moments for her to feel his resistance melt away as he grabbed her hips with both hands and pulled her closer. 

Still lip-locked, Faith reached behind Wes to slam the door shut. As they kissed and moved across the floor in an awkward shuffle, they accidentally knocked over a vase of orange flowers Anya had picked earlier. The sound of the glass shattering on the floor seemed to snap Wes out of whatever haze he was caught in. He froze and stared at Faith as though she were a puzzle to be figured out. Faith fought the urge to roll her eyes; she didn’t have time for him to try and solve whatever it was they were doing. As far as she was concerned, there was only one question worth answering right now: what was the fastest way to strip him down and get to bed? 

When Wes surged forward to kiss her again and began to lead her back towards the bed, Faith decided that they’d figure it out as they went along. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Anya sighed happily as she walked with Xander. She wasn’t completely sure what he was rambling about as they wandered slowly away from the dining hall, but she liked the sound of his voice so she let him continue. Something about a badger, she thought.

They’d had a good time together so far. The meal had been filling, if not particularly tasty, and Xander had kept her entertained with stories of his life in camp. She’d been impressed that so many demons had stopped to greet him or converse as they ate. Most humans weren’t so accepting of others so obviously different than themselves, but Xander seemed at ease with everyone. 

When she’d commented on it, Xander had waved his hand dismissively. “Can’t say I’ve always been like that, but this place is nothing if not a great opportunity to grow yourself.” 

He’d told her the story about how he lost his eye, and no sooner had he finished than Axel had walked up to their table. Anya watched the two men interact, fascinated when the vampire joked and teased Xander without any trace of menace; even more so when Xander showed no evidence of fear or hesitation when he good-naturedly punched Axel on the arm. 

Anya had never been so intrigued by a human. As a general rule, humans were petty and closed-minded. They treated those different than themselves with disdain and distrust; hence the centuries upon centuries of slavery and prejudice. It was one reason that she’d enjoyed being a vengeance demon. Humans often deserved what she dished out, she knew. They were disloyal, dishonest, and quickly forgot their promises when it suited them. Kindness was often a weapon, and love was often just pretty words. Humans very rarely surprised her anymore. 

But this one...this one was quickly becoming very interesting. She’d already decided to approach him about mutually beneficial orgasms before he took her back to her room, but that had been when she’d just found him visually appealing. Now that she found to be so unusually odd for a human, she found him even more so.

With that in mind, Anya cut him off mid-sentence - he’d been saying something about a pineapple, she thought. “Would you like to have sex with me?” 

Xander tripped over his own feet and nearly fell over. He looked at her wide-eyed — which was somewhat amusing when he only had one eye — and laughed nervously. “I’m sorry; I must be going deaf in my old age. It sounded like you asked me if I wanted to have sex with you.” 

Anya nodded succinctly. “I did. I find your appearance appealing and an orgasm would help with some of the uncomfortable feelings I have had since losing my amulet.”

Xander looked at her incredulously. “So...you want to sleep with me...because you’re what, sad that you lost your magic necklace?” 

Anya frowned; he was missing the point. “It’s not a magic necklace; it’s the source of my power as a vengeance demon. Without it, I’m cursed to be mortal again. It’s been very distressing, actually. Orgasms are a well-known way to make people feel better, so I’d like to have one with you. Well, more than one, but I won’t judge if you aren’t able to give more than one at a time. Many human males struggle to bring their partners to orgasm.” 

Xander seemed to choke for a moment before dissolving into a coughing fit. Anya helpfully whacked him on the back a few times until he’d recovered. When he could finally speak again, Xander stuttered, “Y-you’re serious. You really want to just go off somewhere and...canoodle with me?!”

“Yes.” 

Xander rubbed a hand down the back of his neck. “I just — you know, that’s not really something I normally...Anya, we don’t even know each other.”

Anya shook her head, confused by his resistance. “So? People have one night stands with strangers all the time.” 

Xander looked at her pointedly. “And that’s what you want? Just a one night stand?”

Anya paused. She hadn’t considered that, to be honest. He really was an intriguing human, though. She might want more than just one time with him. “I don’t know. Is that a problem? Do I have to know right now for us to have sex?” 

Xander laughed, his boyish grin breaking the tension. “Guess it wouldn’t really be fair to say yes. But for what it’s worth, I think I’d be interested in more than one night. You’re...you’re really something, Anya.” 

Something inside warmed at his words, and Anya smiled back. “I think I will agree with that.” She reached over to grab his hand. “Come on. Faith should be gone to talk with Wesley by now.” 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about right now, were you?” Xander didn’t seem to mind overly much, if his quickened pace was anything to go by. 

They walked as quickly as they could without being conspicuous. Once the door to the cabin was closed, Anya lept into Xander’s arms for a heated kiss. He leaned her against the wall for support and slid his tongue into her mouth as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She tangled her fingers in his hair and moaned in satisfaction. 

They were so distracted by each other that it took a few minutes for the sounds from upstairs to break through. Almost at the same time, they broke apart and glanced upstairs in confusion. The rhythmic thumps against the wall — coupled with the distinct sounds of a couple in pleasure — produced a blush on Xander’s face and a smirk on Anya’s. 

“Well,” she said pragmatically, “I guess we’ll have to find someplace else. Where do you suggest?”


	21. Hyacinthus Orientalis (Common Hyacinth)

**_Hyacinthus Orientalis_ (Common Hyacinth)**

“Hello, my babies! You must be so hungry! Would you like a little snack before our walk?” The dark-haired woman walked slowly past the cages, crooning to the inhabitants as one would a favored dog. 

The shivering forms inside regarded her with distrust, some with wide, frightened expressions; others with narrowed eyes that followed her every step. She smiled airily at them and reached into one of the cages to pat one on the head. When the inhabitant lunged and snapped his jaws at her hand, she snarled and jerked her arm back to safety. A high, harsh peal of laughter rose behind her, and the woman pouted in response. 

“Bad doggy! Won’t get any treats if you haven’t any manners!” She stood in front of the cage with her hands on her hips and scolded the prisoner like an errant pup. 

Her companion snorted behind her. “You’re the one who stuck your hand in the cage, Dru. Werewolves aren’t exactly Chihuahuas, you know.” 

“Good doggies should always mind their Masters! These aren’t trained properly!” Drusilla pouted like a child and glared at the cages. 

The humans inside were dirty and thin — a long way from the frightening creatures they would become when the full moon rose. Though some still had enough anger to resent their captors and dream of escape, most were far too lost in a haze of pain and hunger to notice anything outside of the bars of their prisons. 

Darla rolled her eyes and lazily swirled her finger around the inside edges of her glass. The liquid inside swirled hypnotically; she pulled her finger back out and slipped it into her mouth to suck on idly. 

She looked back at Drusilla, who was stalking back and forth in front of the five cages that lined the back wall of the room. She was as twitchy as the werewolves, and several times more unpredictable. The onset of a full moon was not affecting her as it did them, but the anticipation of the coming night certainly was.

When Drusilla looked to be considering trying to pet one of the prisoners again, Darla snapped, “Dru, that’s enough! Sit down before I tie you down!” 

Drusilla turned her pout towards Darla; then she grinned and giggled. “Can you use the chains this time? Got to practice so that we wear them right when Daddy gets home!” 

Darla allowed a small smile to spread on her lips. “Will it keep you away from the fleabags?”

Drusilla nodded enthusiastically, and Darla sighed in a put-upon way. “Fine. Go get the stupid chains, and we’ll string you up to your crazy heart’s content.” 

Drusilla bounded off like an overeager child who’d been promised sweets, leaving Darla alone for a blessedly quiet moment. Well, alone if one discounted the werewolves; which she did. They would serve their purpose, but Darla didn’t consider them any more deserving of her attention than a rat that ran across the floor. For a moment, though, she dropped her eyes to the cages and smiled. Soon. So very soon. Within a few days, the Slayer and the Key would be in her grasp to be delivered to her Master...or they’d all be dead. 

Darla thought of the report her scout had brought back. It surprised her to hear that Angelus was the one in charge of the hippie commune the Slayer was holing up in. She’d laughed for a solid day at the idea of demons and humans ‘living in peace’. Angelus must have something else going on there. She couldn’t imagine that there was any way that any self-respecting vampire - even one as souled up as Angelus was now - would live with humans without using them as chattel. Darla smiled wistfully as she thought of what her Angelus would have thought of such an idea. He’d have enjoyed stringing the humans up by their entrails for even daring to think themselves the equal of a vampire.

From what the scout had relayed, however, that did not seem to be the case. He’d noted several other vampires in residence, all living in relative ‘peace’, if appearances were to be believed. Spike was a surprise. Darla had half hoped Dru’s useless puppy had offed himself after finding her ‘dust’. Hadn’t that just been a stroke of genius? But no, of all the inconvenient places for him to be, good Ol’ William was there right in the thick of things. Dru didn’t know yet. Darla thought it might be amusing to let her find out in a more...organic way. 

Darla idly sipped the rest of her drink as she waited for Dru’s return. So much planning only to be double-crossed by that bastard warlock. The Master had been furious when he’d found out Rayne’s deceit, and he’d held Darla personally accountable when the warlock went missing. Finding him and making things right was the only way to convince her sire of her true loyalty. She was nearly there, though. If Rayne’s last words held any water at all, the key to all her problems was hiding right in that sleepy little joke of a ‘camp’. It would be so easy to take them all down. A well-placed stake here, a feral werewolf there, a little mayhem, a little murder...not so very difficult at all. 

<><><><><><><><><><>

“You know, if I’d have known that Watchers came in your make and model, the last few years could have been much more interesting.” 

Wes lifted his head off of the pillow and turned towards Faith before dropping it again. She wore a sated grin on her face much like a lioness after a successful hunt. Wes wasn’t sure how he felt now that the haze of desire was gone. 

What he felt most was guilt. He hadn’t intended to...be intimate with her when he’d come to the room. He’d intended to suggest that they go find somewhere open and secluded to train. While she didn’t show any outward signs of remaining injury, Wes had concerns about the lasting effects of Faith’s imprisonment.

His face flushed when he realized that he could certainly give her top marks for flexibility and stamina. Being with Faith was...well, certainly unlike any of his previous encounters with women in the bedroom. Wes was no virgin, nor did he consider himself a prude; it had been some time, however, given the circumstances. When they’d started, he’d been more than a little afraid that he’d embarrass himself. As it turned out, they’d seemed to suit each other quite well, and it had been quite an enjoyable experience. 

Wes shook himself out of his thoughts and realized that Faith was looking at him with a raised eyebrow, still waiting for his response. “You know, I doubt I meet the criteria for that particular title anymore. I appreciate the sentiment, though.” He smiled in what he hoped was an easy manner. 

Faith grinned back and slid her eyes closed. “Makes you wish for a cigarette, don’t it? Like those old movies where the scene starts up after they’ve already fucked and the guy is sittin’ there with a cig hangin’ out his mouth. Sounds pretty good right about now.” 

Wes wasn’t sure what to say to that; wasn’t sure what to do at all, point of fact. He wasn’t in the habit of bedding women on a whim. He’d never been one — even in his “wilder” young days — to engage in one night stands, which is what he assumed this was. He wasn’t sure what one was meant to do. Did he just get up and leave? Should he say something? What would he even say? “Thanks for the fuck — it was brilliant!” His mother would turn in her grave. 

Faith was still waiting, having added to the conversation and expecting him to reciprocate. So he kept his voice level and friendly and said, “I agree. Never got into the habit myself, but the films certainly made it seem like the thing to do, didn’t they?”

Could he ask her if this was just a one-time thing? Shouldn’t that be all it was? He didn’t know her; so why did the idea that he’d never see her like this again make his stomach hurt? Why did the thought that he’d never be inside her again make him uncomfortable? It wasn’t as though she was his typical type. He’d always enjoyed quiet, well-behaved women before. Women who smiled softly and spoke with the same sense of quiet etiquette that he’d been raised with. Faith was in no way that woman.

He let his eyes analytically drift down her form. She was thin - much too thin, really. This was to be expected after her experiences, he supposed, but it still unnerved him to be able to count all of her ribs. Her breasts stood out as her body’s sole attempt to have more than tight skin over bones. The darkened tips drew his eyes and he remembered teasing them briefly during their short-lived round of foreplay. She’d felt soft there; it had occurred to him because, at first glance, nothing about this woman seemed soft. She was all sharp edges and icy glares and fire, but underneath...well, he’d found her to be very soft indeed. 

His eyes roamed down further past her flat belly and jutting hip bones. He needed to make sure she ate more. Why did he need to do that? It wasn’t his job to care for her; he wasn’t officially her Watcher. He wasn’t her anything. Why did that smart a bit? Why did the idea of her booting him out of bed and continuing as though this hadn’t happened bother him in any way? 

“Helloooo! You in there, Hugh? Geez, I know I’m hot an’ all, but it’s been a while since I left a guy speechless!” Her eyes were light and playful, but Wes could see some tightness in her smile that let him know he was being inattentive. 

He smiled back at her and brushed a hand down her cheek. “You are certainly a pleasure to look at, Faith. Are you hungry? I’m sure there’s something to be scrounged up around here.”

Faith sat up only to push him back down flat his back. She crawled back over him and ground her pussy against his reawakening erection, her breasts swinging enticingly in his face. “Nah. Kinda just wanna fuck some more. This time I’m gonna be on top!”

Wes was fairly certain that it was a bloody bad decision. In fact, he was completely certain. His cock, however, was easily persuaded to make bad decisions when they came attached to a body and mouth like hers. Especially when that mouth was currently making its way down to make an even more convincing argument. Really, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they just had one more go, would it? 

He smirked at her playfully. “You were on top last time, you know.”

Faith looked up from the spot on his hip where she’d stopped to nip at the sensitive skin; she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Well damn, you’re right. What can I say? Always wanted to be a cowgirl!” She gave him another cheeky grin before moving to take him into her mouth. 

Wes let his head drop back on the pillow with a groan. He knew very well that she - and likely he - would regret this later. But till then, he might as well enjoy himself. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buffy watched with amusement as Dawn “hunted” Spike through the house. The little girl had asked Spike how he found his food and had been fascinated by his descriptions of hunting in the dark woods. When she’d asked him to teach her how to be a vampire, Buffy had thought Spike’s eyes would pop out of his head. He’d recovered quickly, though, and had laughingly promised to make her a “proper” vampire. Buffy had sent him a sharp look at that; Spike had merely winked at her and turned away to teach Dawn the finer points of stalking one’s prey. 

Buffy wasn’t sure if she ought to be encouraging the activity, but she figured any survival skills Dawn picked up were good. There were no guarantees in this world, and Buffy had no way of knowing if she’d always be there to protect the little girl. Better to let Dawn learn skills like moving quietly and tracking in a safe environment rather than on her own in the middle of winter or something like that. 

Spike had left a trail through the house a mile wide, even going so far as to leave one of his boots on the floor to his room. Dawn tip-toed through the house like an old-timey detective, tapping her chin and softly “hmm”-ing to herself. When she made a comment about “picking up a scent”, Buffy slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Dawn followed the trail into the darkness of Spike’s room. 

A moment later, Dawn let out a triumphant screech. When Spike’s voice floated out, high pitched and dramatic, begging the “terrible beastie” not to “bleed him dry”, Buffy lost the battle of keeping her laughter contained. Big, tough vampire indeed. She knew the other demons in camp respected him, listened to him, feared him even; she very much doubted they’d ever seen this side of him. 

Dawn had a way of winning people over, and Spike was no different. Somehow, in the course of their time together, he’d gotten completely wrapped around her tiny finger; there wasn’t a doubt in Buffy’s mind that he’d protect Dawn with his unlife. He already had. Buffy had worried for a brief moment that he might resent the little girl for the risk she brought to his home, but he’d never shown her anything but patience. 

Buffy wondered what Dawn would think if and when it came time for them to leave. The two weeks were very nearly up...just a few more days. They hadn’t spoken at all about what would happen when Dawn’s ‘quarantine’ was up; so, regardless of how...close they’d become, Buffy had to assume that she and Dawn would still be leaving at the end of their two weeks. The little girl would be crushed. 

Buffy didn’t want to think about that. She wanted to think about Spike letting Dawn climb his back like a mountain and laughing at her Tarzan-esque yell when she made it to the top. She wanted to think about the fact that Dawn had let slip that Spike had ‘kept her safe’ every night when Buffy had been in recovery. She wanted to think about Spike’s kisses and his hands driving her to the brink of insanity and back. She wanted to think about all the things she was growing to... _oh shit..._ to love about him.

This had not been the plan. This was so far from the plan that it was in another solar system. There had been no part of this that had been the plan; in fact, it was the exact opposite of the plan! There was not supposed to be any falling in love with a vampire! There wasn’t supposed to be any falling in love at all if she wanted to split hairs about it, but definitely, there was not supposed to be any falling in love with a member of the undead! 

Buffy’s heart raced as she felt the panic rise in her chest. It must have been incredibly obvious because it took Spike all of ten seconds to stick his head back out with a raised eyebrow. What did she say? “Sorry, Spike, nothing to worry about! Just having a minor heart attack over here, nothing serious. Go on about your day; I’ll just die here in the corner quietly!” 

“Everything all right, pet?” 

No. Nothing was all right. Nothing could be all right when she was falling in love with a vampire. Now THAT had been a chapter of her Watcher’s training. Vampires use charm and desire to get what they want, or so Giles’s books had said. You couldn’t trust anything they said as sincere, and above all, you should never forget that a demon is incapable of emotions like love or loyalty. 

Except that Spike was very capable of those feelings - at least, the loyal ones. She’d seen it. She’d felt it. So what did that mean? Were all vampires like him or was he special? Well, she was pretty sure he was special - playing with human children did not seem like normal vampire behavior no matter who you were talking about. But it seemed like normal Spike behavior. 

Buffy didn’t realize that she hadn’t answered him until he was suddenly in front of her face snapping his fingers and looking at her strangely. “You in there, pet?” 

Buffy felt heat rising in her cheeks as she squeaked, “Yeah! Sorry, just got lost in a daydream, I guess!” 

Spike didn’t look like he believed her, but he didn’t push. “I expect the mighty huntress has killed me enough for one evening. About time for her to get some kip, isn’t it? 

Maybe? She didn’t really have a way to tell the time in the cabin. There was a clock on the wall, but its batteries had died sometime before she and Dawn had even arrived. Somehow she and Dawn had gotten in the habit of living on some strange form of “Vampire time”. Dawn stayed up fairly late into the night because that’s when Spike was awake. They both slept late into the morning; their first meal was often around midday when Buffy would wake up and go into camp by herself. They’d pass the back half of the day together, or Dawn would spend time with whoever stopped by to see them. Around sunset, Buffy would make one more walk into camp before Spike got up to get dinner. When he came out, they’d light candles or a fire in the fireplace and spend the early evening reading, talking, or playing. Sometimes he would leave the house early to see someone in camp, but most of the time he’d wait to do that until both Buffy and Dawn had gone to bed. 

Spike was right though - it did feel pretty late for Dawn to still be up. Buffy cupped her hand around her mouth to call, “C’mon, Dawnie! Time for bed!” 

A whiny “Awwwwwww, really? I don’t wanna!” came from inside Spike’s room. Buffy and Spike shared a look before Spike walked casually back into the room. For a moment it was quiet; then Dawn let out a shriek. “Put me down! Spi-ike, I said put me down! I was coming!” 

Spike walked back into the main room with Dawn slung over his shoulder. When Buffy raised an eyebrow, he shrugged and said, “She keeps forgetting I can see in the dark. Tried to hide under the bed like an amateur.” 

Buffy shook her head at the child and stood up. She walked behind Spike and tilted her head to catch Dawn’s eyes as the child hung upside down. Buffy smiled playfully and said, “I guess the mighty huntress needs a few more lessons, huh?” 

Dawn glared but said nothing. Spike carried her into her room; then left Buffy to get the little girl settled. Buffy smiled at the pouting child; something in Dawn’s face reminded Buffy of herself; and Buffy suddenly wondered what her mom would have thought of her arrangement. What would Joyce Summers have thought if she’d known that her 18-year-old daughter suddenly had a “daughter” of her own and was sort of co-parenting with an evil vampire? She actually had a strange notion that Joyce would have liked Spike. As for her having a pseudo-child, Buffy could just hear her mother’s voice saying something like, “Well, you’re about as prepared as anybody, I guess.” 

Joyce hadn’t been a perfect mom. She hadn’t handled many things well - Buffy’s training as a potential, for example. She’d railed endlessly about it, refusing to let Giles through the door for a solid 3 months after he came to them to explain about Buffy’s potential calling. She’d glared holes through his head for the next 6 months after that. But it had been for love. She’d loved Buffy, and everything she’d done had been out of a place of wanting her daughter safe. 

Buffy wanted to keep Dawn safe. She wasn’t sure if she really felt like a “mom”...maybe more of an older sister; but she knew that even though Dawn wasn’t technically her family...she still was in all the ways that mattered. Buffy wasn’t sure how to explain that to the little girl, so she settled for making sure that she hugged and kissed her every night. She took care of her as best she knew how. 

Dawn settled down for bed much more quickly than Buffy had thought she would. A hug here, a song here, and suddenly yawns were escaping the little girl left and right. Buffy gave Dawn one more pat after she’d been tucked in, and slipped out the door with a soft, “Good night.” 

Spike was sprawled in one of the chairs in the living room when she stepped out. They’d opted for a fire that evening, and Buffy was mesmerized by the shadows that danced on his skin. Spike looked up from the book in his hand and grinned. “Sounds like the Tiny Terror was tired after all.” 

Buffy nodded. “Surprise, surprise right? Hunting down the most obvious prey in the world is tiring work!”

“Oi! Who you callin’ prey?” He paused; then pouted. “Wasn’t bein’ obvious. Tryin’ to get the girl to look for signs. Prey might not leave a boot on the ground, but they might leave a print to follow.” 

Buffy smiled placatingly and teased, “Yeah, sure, if you say so. I guess it helped that she was ‘hunting’ something with radioactive hair. Kinda hard to miss you!” 

Spike cocked an eyebrow, and a slow grin spread on his face. “You think you could find me, luv? Fancy yourself the master huntress, do you?” 

She really didn’t. Subtle had never been Buffy’s thing, much to her Watcher’s chagrin. Buffy suspected that Spike could move through a room full of bubble wrap without making a sound. Buffy couldn’t walk through an empty room without finding something to stub her toe on. It wouldn’t be any fun if she told him that, though. 

Buffy tilted her chin up and looked down her nose at Spike. “Of course I could find you.” 

Spike slowly rose to his feet and moved towards her. He stopped in front of her and ran a finger down her cheek. Buffy was pretty sure that someone’s finger on her cheek shouldn’t be enough to turn her on, but she was learning that Spike was just full of surprises. 

He leaned close and murmured, “Well then, we’ll just see, won’t we? What do I get if you can’t?” 

Buffy blushed. She could think of a lot of things that Spike might ask for, and they all made her want to lose badly. “Ummm...bragging rights?”

Spike shook his head, “Got to do better than that, pet. When I prove who’s the master predator, I’ll want my prize. What’ll it be?” 

Buffy scowled and stepped back a bit. “Hey now, who says you’ll automatically win? I could win. What’ll **my** prize be when I find you?”

The look Spike gave her could have melted ice. Well, the look plus the hand he’d sneakily started rubbing up and down her thigh. He looked deeply into her eyes when he responded, “Whatever you like, luv.”

Buffy swallowed thickly. “Ok. Well, I’ll just have to think of something good.”

Spike laughed and took a step away to smirk at her playfully. “You do that. All right, rules then. You stay here, close your eyes, and count to one hundred. I’ll pop off outside and hide. Won’t go out of sight of the house. You’ve got twenty minutes to track me down...” he paused and gave her a long look up and down. “Or admit defeat.” 

“How do I know you won’t cheat and move around or something?” 

“Where would the fun in that be? If I’m goin’ to beat you, it’ll be fair and square. Only way it counts!” 

Buffy smiled wryly and shook her head. “An evil vampire who’s a hide and seek rule stickler. What will they think of next?” 

Spike tapped her nose with a finger and started backing towards the door. “Tha’s enough from you, you cheeky bint! Now close your eyes and no peeking! May the best hunter win!” 

With that, he turned and took off out the door. Buffy stared at the spot he’d been standing in for a few seconds and wondered what Giles would say if he could see her now. They’d done exercises on tracking various demons and vampires, but that was a little different than trying to track an actual vampire. 

Buffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _One...two...three...four…_

Outside, Spike sauntered through the brush surrounding the cabin. He slipped into his demon face the moment he stepped outside. His vampiric senses certainly put the game in his favor, but Spike was certain Buffy would give him a run for his money. His demon all but purred at the idea of being hunted by such a beautiful opponent. He pictured her sleek and stealthy in the night, the moonlight catching her lovely hair. Competitive as he was, this was one challenge that Spike hoped that he lost! 

He quickly chose his spot; the highest branches of one of the fuller trees around the side of the cabin would do nicely. He was able to see the door where she emerged, but he would be impossible to see from his perch. He’d done a full lap around the cabin and backtracked through a small creek first in hopes of throwing her off. Spike had no intention of taking it easy on her. After all, a man had his pride. The game wouldn’t be as fun if he made it too simple for her to find him. 

He watched from his branch as Buffy set out with a flashlight. She had it aimed at the ground, so Spike assumed she was looking for footprints. She seemed to find some she liked and began to follow them into the brush. As the minutes passed, Spike felt his estimation of her grow. Buffy had followed his trail expertly, only fudging it a few times; and each time she’d lost him, she’d backtracked and tried again. By the time fifteen minutes had passed, Buffy was almost back around to the side where Spike was hiding. 

She was glorious. Spike felt himself harden as he watched her; Artemis on the hunt, she was. She made her way through a patch of blue flowers, considering each step carefully as she puzzled out his trail. He could almost picture her framed in moonlight, a bow and arrow held tightly in her hands. He’d gladly sacrifice himself at her altar if she’d only promise to devour him whole — preferably while wearing one of those Grecian togas. 

At last, she passed just underneath his tree and paused. Spike watched her silently, trying to decide if it would be more fun to roar and scare the pants off her or jump down and grab her from behind. He decided that touching was always more fun. In just a few seconds more, she was exactly where he wanted her. Spike’s mouth watered at the idea of turning the hunt on her.

Spike dropped to the ground behind Buffy and had her pushed up against the tree before she even had time to gasp. She pushed back against him, trying to wriggle free; all that did was push her ass against his growing erection — hardly a problem from his point of view! He growled softly and pressed himself against her back. He leaned in to whisper, “Well, look who I’ve caught wandering the woods all alone at night? Could it be Little Red Riding Hood? Surely she knows better than to go walkin’ about when there’s a Big Bad Wolf around?” 

Buffy tried in vain to push him off - after 20 minutes of tracking him through the dark, she’d be damned if she just let him win and shove her against a tree! She huffed in frustration when she couldn’t get a good grip or any kind of leverage with her feet. Never mind that he was being unusually forceful. Spike didn’t often show his full strength, and she felt a spark of panic spread in her chest as she realized that she couldn’t move him. All she could really do was writhe against him; in response, he growled again against her ear and ground his cock against her ass. Buffy froze. 

Spike’s demon was quickly gaining control. It was easier to do when he was already in his other face; he always felt more like the demon that way. Right then, the sight of Buffy at his mercy, a perfectly lovely piece of prey...the demon wanted nothing more than for him to take her; to prove his power and dominance as the superior predator. Images flooded his mind - Buffy bent over and clutching the tree as he pounded into her from behind; Buffy spread out on the forest floor with her legs wrapped around his hips so he could fuck her while he bit into her lovely throat; Buffy on her knees in front of him using hands and tongue and teeth to bring him off while he leaned against the rough bark of the tree. God, he wanted it! He breathed in the scent of her body’s response to his presence and it made him feel a bit high. Fuck, she smelled good! He just wanted a little taste; that was all. He’d been damnably good so far — had gone slow so as not to scare the girl. Surely he could —

“Spike! Stop!!” Buffy’s voice barely registered through the haze in his mind.

His demon didn’t care about her words. It cared about her scent, which was driving him wild. It cared about her taste, which he knew from last night to be pure sin. It wanted her wet heat all around him — **now** ; sure that if he could just get inside of her, the words would cease. Spike ran a hand up her belly to cup one of her breasts; the other gripped her hip and pulled her harder against his aching cock. He tilted his head down to the back of her neck, slowly opening his jaws to taste her. 

Spike moaned at the first drop of her blood on his tongue. His demon reveled in the rich taste and demanded more. More blood. More heat. More her! He registered that she was struggling against him, and through the haze of lust for blood and flesh, he interpreted it as a challenge for dominance. He growled in response and held her tighter, ready to bite down in order to hold her still.

A sudden sharp burst of pain like a bucket of icy water brought Spike back to reality. Buffy had managed to get enough leverage to jam her heel into his instep and her elbow into his gut simultaneously. He jumped back and snarled loudly, baring his fangs. One look at her face, however, stopped him in his tracks. 

Angry tears streamed down Buffy’s cheeks; she clenched her fists at her side and took deep, shaky breaths as she glared at him. “What the hell, Spike?! I said stop!” 

Spike’s demon face receded in the split second it took to realize what he’d almost done. Visions of Angel’s accusations filled his head and bile rose in his throat. _Nonono!_ “Buffy...I didn’t...I only...Fuck!!” He backed away quickly, desperate for space between them. She still smelled so good; he was suddenly terrified that even her anger wouldn’t be enough to stop him if—

“Spike! Talk to me, dammit! What the hell was that?” Through her anger, Spike could hear her racing heart, smell the pheromones that signaled fear. She was afraid...of him. Pain lanced through his heart like he’d been staked. 

What had he done? 


End file.
